


A Tale of Two Princes

by sapphskies



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different Powers, Alternate Universe - Historical, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Mild Blood, Mild Gore, Mild Language, Multi, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Prince Hwang Hyunjin, Prince Lee Minho | Lee Know, butler! bang chan, chef! yang jeongin, future businessman! kim seungmin, mature themes, merman! lee felix, royal guard! seo changbin, slow burn! seungjin, thief! han jisung
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:29:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27311209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphskies/pseuds/sapphskies
Summary: when the world you inhabit seems to hold treasure troves of secrets and you have the influence to change it, you must.two princes, a thief, a guard, a merman, a butler, a businessman's son, and a chef.that's all it takes to start a revolution.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Original Female Character(s), Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Hwang Hyunjin/Kim Seungmin, Lee Felix/Seo Changbin
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	1. Royal Pains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mentions of homophobia, overbearing parents (a common theme throughout the story)

It became more than easy to tune out the blurred voices of the noblemen and the palace workers around him, as the humble Prince of Terrapax found himself doing, yet again, whilst admiring the scenery sat out through the golden framed doors of the palace gardens.

For too long, he’d longed to gaze at its vividly bright array of flowers, to feel its smooth, stone benches under his fingertips, to fall under a daze and allow his thoughts to free-fall in accordance with the rushing fountain water. He hadn’t really gotten the chance to do so nowadays, with ceremonial preparations underway.

His mother, who had been too busy talking to her chamberlain to notice that her only son had stopped walking at their tail, stops in her tracks upon receiving radio silence after asking him a question ‘Hyunjin?’

Turning back around, she scoffs into the air and strides back to her son, the length of her day dress swishing behind her ‘Hyunjin! You need to stop getting distracted, dear, you’re a crucial part of the ceremony, whether you like it or not,’ she’d paused, giving the boy a once-over, and then reaching over to smooth over his messy locks ‘and brush your hair, will you? You’re a _royal_.’

Hyunjin holds back a groan and continues walking along with the pair down the grandiose halls of the palace, letting them lead the way as if he was some sort of petulant child. Truthfully, they knew he hadn’t been listening, as Hyunjin made it abundantly clear that he didn’t like attending the annual ceremony; or really any great party or event held at the monstrous palace he happened to reside in. It was the same routine of being shoved into tight, uncomfortable clothing, memorizing disingenuous speeches like it was a school assignment, and upholding a smile as he greeted various noblemen and earls, and whoever else high enough in the social hierarchy.

Truthfully, he had only liked these events as a child, through slight peaks into the past, remembrances of his small self running around the palace gardens with his friends, hiding pastries from the palace kitchens in his oversized suit jacket, and practicing his public speaking skills as he excitedly spoke to crowds that cooed at his tiny figure, sitting atop his father’s shoulders.

His parents would always remind him; how he’d lost that spirit a long time ago. They’d always condemn him for his sudden inclusiveness and his inability to befriend those of high caliber, and reassured him that he would get better again, because in a way, he had no choice but to. Being his father’s only son, he was sure to be next in line. And when that happened, he had to find someone to bewed, and start his own family with, thus carrying on the royal bloodline. 

As the days carried on, he’d felt the pressure seep into his entire being, past his bones, muscles, veins, weaving into his bloodstream. It was undeniably holding him down, like an upsized boulder that only weighed heavier and heavier the more he was reminded of the position he was in, and the cruciality of his actions.

Sometimes, he wishes, he could’ve just been born into the same situation as the kids helping out their parents at the bakery, or the ones that walked around town with a book in their hands and an inquisitive look in their eyes; just some of the things he’d see while making his monthly rounds around town – on of the only thing he looked forward to getting to do every month.

Hyunjin seemed to be too deep in his head to notice that his mother and the chamberlain had stopped walking, almost crashing straight into the latter’s back. At this, his mother sighs at her son’s clear uninterest, turning to face the chamberlain ‘You see what I mean? He never listens. How am I expected to teach him anything like this?’

Hyunjin bites at the inside of his cheek, _I’m right here, mother._

The chamberlain chortles in response, unfolding the parchment he had been holding onto the entire time ‘He’ll learn, in due time, don’t do your head in, now. Anyhow, here’s where we can expect everything to go, would you prefer for the pianist to sit here or–,’

Again, Hyunjin tunes out their voices. It had been much too early for this, and he didn’t understand why his mother bothered trying to involve him in the decision-making process when there wasn’t much left to do, and he didn’t even want to be there. Besides, if he had answered ‘what does it matter?’ when his mother asked about floral arrangements again, he was sure to be dead this time.

Just as Hyunjin had gathered up the courage to request to go back up to his room – or chambers, as he was forced to call it – in hopes that it’ll serve to drown out his sorrows in the form of silk sheets and fluffy robes, he feels himself jump i’m surprise at the sound of the grand doors of the massive palace hall opening, a unit of palace guards moving to the sides to reveal the unmistakable site of Lee Minho himself (and a few other people Hyunjin didn’t really care about).

Hyunjin’s heart almost leaps out of his chest at the sight of the familiar boy, and before he could stop himself from choosing to remain cordial, he runs over to the large doors at great speed, almost knocking the former over in a bone-crushing hug. Yes, he knew his mother would scold him later. No, he didn’t really care.

Minho chuckles at the younger’s enthusiasm, hugging him back, a bit gentler in his approach ‘Missed me, huh?’

‘Yes! It’s been so long,’ Hyunjin almost cries out, whimpering into the elder’s velvet jacket.

‘I’ve missed you too, ferret.’

Hyunjin holds back a scoff of disapproval at the nickname that had stuck between the two for way too long, in his opinion, and chose to focus on the fact that his best friend was really here, in all his royal glory.

Lee Minho was the Prince of Terragloria, the sister nation of Terrapax. The two nations had a very long and deep-rooted history, and through that, Hyunjin was able to grow up with Minho by his side. Even as children, the pair saw each other as brothers, and couldn’t imagine each other’s lives without the other. However, as royal duties go, they hadn’t been able to see each other for quite some time – this, being a bit of an understatement, as they had last seen each other the year prior, on Minho’s birthday –, mainly due to Minho’s inability to visit, having taken up a lot of his sick father’s duties, which was quite a big burden to uphold, seeing as he was attempting to lead a nation at only 20 years of age. Hyunjin didn’t want to discredit his parents' multifaceted efforts, but often times, he did find himself wishing he had been born into the Lee family instead, who were miles ahead and more accepting than the Hwang family. There was the fact that, when Minho had come out to the world as gay, on his 19th birthday, with the utmost amount of support from his own family, and a measly ‘We support the prince in all his endeavors, however we do not respect his ideologies’ from Hyunjin’s parents.

Hyunjin remembers the day they had made that announcement, just the day after, when he'd strode up to the elder’s room, apologizing profusely, ensuring him that he was 100% supportive of him and didn’t hold any of his parents’ prejudices. Minho ended up comforting the younger, who had burst into his room in a fit of sobs and blubbered-out words, and reassured him that he knew, and that he was fine.

When all was said and done, Minho and Hyunjin were real brothers, and no one could convince them otherwise.

♚♔♚

‘Pardon my French, but what the actual fuck?!’

Hyunjin's chest bubbles with great bouts of laughter, aching from the severity of his snickering spree, while his older brother smacks his side with the force of one of his own throw pillows. The pair had been drowning under the weight of Hyunjin’s large, silk, bed sheets, recounting old memories and stories.

‘Do you know what I had to deal with because of that?!’ Minho exclaims, referring to the little secret Hyunjin had just spouted, pertaining to the expensive, ancestral vase that had been broken by Hwang Hyunjin himself, when the pair were much smaller, and then pinned on Minho because he happened to be closer to it when his parents had spotted it.

‘I’m sorry! But to be fair, they'd made the first assumption, so I didn’t think it was necessary to correct them.’

Minho tries his best to direct a seething glare towards the younger's direction, but the small grin on his face is unmistakably persistent ‘Little shit.’

Hyunjin giggles in response, once again. At that moment, he’d felt nothing but bliss and happiness; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like that. Sure, he had his friends at the castle or near castle grounds, but with ceremonial preparations going on for about a month – especially now, as the big ceremony was days way –, he could barely spare the time to breathe, let alone spend time with his lovely friends.

Funnily enough, Hyunjin had a knack of making friends with people his parents weren’t too fond of having him associate so closely with – in this case, Minho should be the acceptance, but they still never seem to let go of the fact that he’s _gay_. Which was quite evident after the disaster that occurred at dinner that night:

_So, Minho, my boy. Found yourself a maiden, yet?’_

_'Father.’_

_'I’m just asking. Seeing as, the poor boy is practically ruling Terragloria on his own now, I think having a woman in his life would really help him stay grounded.’_

_Minho smiled, no sign of malice in his eyes, just a mischievous sparkle and glimmer in his eyes ‘With all due respect, Your Majesty, that’s why I have my mother.’_

Hyunjin grimaces at the short memory, sitting up from his previously slouched position, feeling his grin slowly fade away while a swarming guilt rises up to replace it. Minho, who had noticed the younger’s sudden tenseness, quirks an eyebrow up at his abrupt change in behavior.

‘What’s wrong, ferret?’

‘I just…I know you said not to worry about it, but,’ Hyunjin pauses ‘what my father said earlier. I’m really sorry about that, I’ve tried explaining it to–,’

Minho raises a hand dismissively ‘It’s fine! Your parents–, they, I don’t think they’ll ever understand, you know? And I can live with that.’

Hyunjin’s face contorts with conflict of emotions; what looks to be a mix of discontent and disbelief.

‘I know, but, w– why? Is it so hard to understand such a simple notion? And does it not bother you, how so many people reacted negatively at first? I just– how are you not phased?’

Minho smiles knowingly. That was the thing, the older would always smile; Hyunjin could barely remember any instances in which he spotted a sorrowful expression on the elder’s face, or tears in his pretty eyes. Throughout it all, he’d smile. And Hyunjin could not, for the life of him, understand how he did it with supposed ease.

‘Jinnie, I appreciate your concern, but honestly, I’m tired of having to explain such elementary concepts to people that make a show of knowing the world’s greatest mysteries and all the logistics with which we live our lives,’ Minho’s words had left his mouth at unprecedented speed, so he pauses to re-collect his breath, and at Hyunjin’s expression of bafflement ‘but I digress, of course it’s hurt me, I’m not made of steel, unfortunately. At the end of the day, it was realizing that none of what these people say mattered in the end that got me to stop caring. I _know_ I’m going to hell, but I’ll be damned if they claim it's because of my sexual preference.’

Hyunjin lets out a slew of giggles once more, feeling bad for having made such a fuss when they’d established such a light atmosphere beforehand. Minho reached up to gently pat the younger’s head in affection, having melted even further into Hyunjin’s large sheets, somehow.

At that same second, a familiar knock had sounded at the door; one that Hyunjin had become accustomed to. Minho, not so much, and that was evident in the way that the older almost leaped out of the bed in fright, accidentally smacking Hyunjin in the face in his panic.

Bang Chan’s – one of the palace’s butlers, and one of Hyunjin’s greatest friends – unmistakable grin peaked into the small opening, his cart holding something that smelled delicious ‘Minho! It’s good to see you!’

Minho smiles, catapulting off of the bed, and running over to where Chan had been wheeling his cart into the room, a plate of chocolate chip cookies presenting itself to the two boys, in all its wonderful glory, carrying the unmistakable aroma of nostalgia and warmth. Minho felt like tearing up, reaching over to wrap an arm around Chan’s shoulders ‘It’s good to see you too, you cookie angel. Have I ever told you how much I loved you?’

‘Yes, about every time I sneak in food for you two.’ Chan chuckles, but nevertheless, pats at the younger boy’s back before dramatically presenting his glass to him ‘For the gentleman, a glass of our finest strawberry milk, harvested straight from our farms at–,’

‘Chan–,’

‘Right sorry, here’s your chocolate milk, Hyunjin,’

Chan had grown up around the pair as well, having worked closely around his father, who had been a personal, and trusted, butler of the king’s for years. As kids, he’d sneak into the kitchens, ducking under kitchen workers and meandering around them to get in little snacks or treats that he knew the little princes would’ve appreciated having, seeing as they were limited to set portions of mediocre fancy food at the dinner table, and didn’t have much to snack on afterwards.

The same had remained throughout their years growing up in a palace, as Chan made it a habit to sneak in food for Hyunjin when he could, especially on days where his food portions were so small, it took him only two bites to finish off.

Minho takes a small bite of the cookie, his teeth slowly penetrating through its crisp surface, reaching into its chewy interior, the blend of cookie dough and melted chocolate generating an epiphany of pleasure from the starving boy. Minho sighs dreamily, plopping back down onto the bed as Hyunjin reaches for a cookie as well.

‘Chan. Please, come back home with me.’

‘Minho, what the _fuck_.’

‘I’m just saying, you’ve had him for long enough, it’s my turn now,’

‘You know, out of context, this conversation sounds horribly wrong.’

Chan sighs to himself, watching as the two boys went back and forth ‘So you two just want me around for the food, is that it?’

Hyunjin and Minho let out sounds of denial and murmurs of ‘no!’ and ‘of course, not!’, mouths full of cookie crumble and chocolate, while Chan watched the two amusedly as they clearly drew more focus into the tasty treats in their hands. Chan decided he’d teased them enough, moving to grab a couple of cookies and waving a hand as the two whined, making his way back to the doors, stopping as Hyunjin let out a muffled ‘wait!’.

Hyunjin leaps out of his bed, running over to pull Chan back in, and then making sure no one was nearby before closing his room’s doors ‘Um, by any chance, did you spot Changbin while you were downstairs?’

Chan ponders over the question for a bit, before concluding ‘Yeah, I think he’s patrolling outside, by the main gates, today,’

‘Perfect!’ Hyunjin exclaims, excited grin faltering at Chan’s knowing stare.

‘Hyunjin,’ Chan begins, pausing for emphasis ‘what are you planning?’

Minho, who also grows interested at the younger’s odd behavior, places his glass of milk down and questions ‘Yeah, why are you asking, Jinnie?’

‘I-it’s not that important,’ Hyunjin stammers over his words, shrinking under his butler’s stare, who had now crossed his arms over his chest, seemingly catching onto Hyunjin’s plans.

‘You’re planning on sneaking out, aren’t you?’

‘No!’

‘Wait, you are? I thought you promised to keep me company for the rest of the night, you rat.’

‘I am–,’

‘Hyunjin!’

‘Ugh, fine, yes! I was planning on sneaking out with Minho. Don’t look at me like that, you know how suffocating it is here, just let me have one night to myself, while my brother’s here again.’

Chan groans, raising a hand to rub at his temple ‘Hyunjin, if your parents find out, they’ll crucify you, Minho _and_ Changbin when you get him involved,’

Minho shrugs nonchalantly ‘Eh, they don’t like me anyways,’

Hyunjin glares back at Chan with equal fervor ‘I know that, obviously! But, I really think we can get away with it! You always get away with stealing food from the kitchen!’

Chan opens his mouth to deny, to claim that it was completely different, but he stopped at the distant look in Hyunjin’s eyes. He knows what the younger had been dealing with, what with the incessant nagging and pressure from his parents, and his clear exhaustion from having to endure the course of every day that passed; what was one night away?

Chan sighs, eyes drooping in exasperated sympathy. ‘Fine. Get ready, I’ll talk to Changbin.’

♚♔♚

‘Don’t ever say I don’t do anything for you,’ Changbin glares up at the pair of princes in front of him, scanning their surroundings before letting out a final sigh, and motioning them over to the open gates.

‘I think I’ll miss you the most when I’m back home, Binnie.’ Minho sighs exaggeratedly as said male pushes at his side harshly, seemingly begging for a death wish for risking getting caught shoving a royal.

‘Don’t patronize me, Lee,’ Changbin eyes the grinning boy momentarily, before turning his attention back to Hyunjin ‘Your Highness, please be careful, you take about 5 years off my life every time you do something stupid, so please be extra weary this time.’

Hyunjin sighs out an ‘I will.’ while Minho frowns, mumbling ‘I’m a prince too, where’s my respect?’

Changbin ignores the latter before sending them a curt nod, urging them to start moving quickly while another guard moves out of their sight. Minho groans, but lets Hyunjin pull him away into the darkness, wherever it was that he was planning on venturing to in the late hours of the night. Hyunjin wouldn’t show it, but he felt his nerves skyrocket as soon as the pair stepped out through the gates, a frustrated Changbin rushing them out

Minho seems to realize anyways, for he had given the younger _‘that’_ expression before he verbally communicates back that he was sure about not wanting to turn back. Truthfully, the two had never snuck out like this, so late into the night; the most they’d done before was sneak out of palace parties to anywhere else in the vastness of the ominous, fancy structures they resided in. This, along with Hyunjin’s tendency to disobey rules and sneak away whenever he got the chance, didn’t make the premise of that night’s plans too hard to fathom.

Still, Hyunjin feels goosebumps rise along the length of his covered arms, even with the dark, black cloak obscuring most of his face from view and making him feel awfully stuffy due to the amount of dark layers both boys had to be adorned in. Even when it was mid-July, and Hyunjin felt his hands clam up, he shivered and rubbed his hands together feverishly. Before Minho could say anything, though, the pairs’ ears perked up at the sound of metal against gravel; a guard was approaching.

Swiftly, and with complete disregard of any prior nervousness, Hyunjin grabs Minho’s hand and sprints off into the darkness, dark cloak in tow and flow with every step he took further and further away from the place he resided in. In the distance, he hears an exclamation from one of the guards – likely the one that had been approaching – and a shout back from Changbin, who had probably made up an excuse for the two boys, knowing fully well that he had to have one ready.

Hyunjin’s mind seems to blank out, for his body acted against all his senses, sprinting further and further, a frazzled and still startled minho at his tail, dragged along like a rag doll. Eventually, Minho has to rip his hand away and stop the younger from finishing his marathon. Only then does Hyunjin notice how far away they had gotten.

Minho heaves, bending over in his exhaustion ‘A warning would’ve been nice, ferret!’

Hyunjin lays a hand on a nearby tree in an attempt to catch his breath, observing the enchanting forestry around him, and glares over at the other boy.

'I panicked, ok! And stop calling me that!’

Minho stands back up, tilting his head to the side inquisitively ‘You know,’

_Hyunjin sighed, he knew where this was going._

‘I read a book last month detailing the different functions of different vertebrate groups, and I touched up on my ferret knowledge.’

Hyunjin rolls his eyes ‘And?’

‘ _And_ , amongst many other interesting factoids, they are particularly fast sprinters! Of course, this should be obvious to anyone who has ever even heard of the little creatures, but! Their special talents lie particularly in their ability to switch directions and jet for the nearest hiding spot. Of course, once they start sprinting, it’s hard to get them to stop.’

Hyunjin’s intense gaze, furrowed eyebrows, and frozen stature, did not falter the slightest bit as he listened to his older brother ramble, feeling the information being spouted by the former go into one ear, and out the other.

Minho grins sheepishly ‘Sorry, I got carried away. Anyways! The point is, pet names used as pet names should be more normalized. Kitten, Puppy, Rat, they’re all cute!’

Before Hyunjin could express the greatest amount of ingratitude for all that he’d just heard, the sound of leaves and branches crackling under movement startle the two, and Minho jumps forward to instinctively draw closer to the other boy, having heard the sound right behind him. Hyunjin bites down on his bottom lip, drawing out his sword – of course he carries – protectively, while Minho stares back at him bewilderedly _(why did you bring this?)._

For a few seconds, the pair hear nothing, and just as Hyunjin is about to let his guard down, a ball of grey fur jumps out, straight into the pair’s peripheral, from where it had been previously obscured.

Great Panic ensues. The pair immediately fall into alarm, issuing high pitched screams, and clinging onto each other, hoping that it was enough to keep them out of harm’s way.

Taking the initiative, Minho peeks up with the slightest of gazes from where he’s buried his face into Hyunjin’s shoulder and ponders for a moment if whatever came at them had run past them. That is, until he looks down.

A tiny squeak resounds from a small, grey squirrel in front of them. It tilts its head inquisitively opon landing its eyes over the tense pair in front of it, its tail swishing about, big eyes blinking up brightly. Minho released his grip from off of the other boy, groaning in humiliation that two, trained princes had freaked out over such a tiny, harmless creature.

Minho’s eyes brighten at the sight of the tiny animal before him, and he’d taken a moment to evaluate his next move, while Hyunjin stared back at the animal, wide eyed.

Minho slowly bends down, maintaining eye contact with the tiny creature, while ensuring that he didn’t startle it ‘Hi. I’m sorry, we don’t have any food for you, but I won’t mind keeping you company,’

Hyunjin blinks ‘Um, what now?’

Minho shushes the former, gaze still held onto the squirrel. Slowly, he takes a risk and outstretches his palm, ever so slightly, and in a manner that wouldn’t pose as possible threat. Surprisingly, the animal bends its little head down to rub against the boy’s open palm, and then eventually, props itself up so its weaved around the boy's arm.

Giggling to himself, Minho lets the squirrel jump and play around on his arm, traveling up to his shoulders at one point, only to move back down in its frantic motions. Throughout the entire ordeal, neither boy (or squirrel) noticed the sight of a very confused and appalled Han Jisung standing a bit away from them, admiring the scene in front of him.

‘Hyunjin?’

Hyunjin’s head whips to the side at alarming speed, and his eyes widen at the sight of the boy in front of him ‘Jisung!’

‘Minho…?’

Hyunjin ignores the older boy, running over to the pull the shorter boy to where the other two reside ‘Well, this is great! I was planning on trying to find you, but I guess you found us!’

Jisung looks between the two confusedly, and then he freezes, as if a switch had just turned on in his brain. At that, he turns to Minho - who had stood up by now - and bent down in a perfect 180-degree angle ‘Oh! I’m so sorry, I didn’t notice it was you, Your Highness!’

Now it's Minho's turn to freeze, feeling the grey squirrel jump down from his arms and onto the ground at Jisung’s feet, who had been forced to stand up by Hyunjin, who hit his shoulder ‘lightly’, sounding a small _‘owie’_ from the latter.

Jisung, having recollected his fallen pride, gasps at the squirrel nipping at his feet ‘Fredrick! Why’d you run off like that?’

Jisung bends down in an attempt to pet the small squirrel, but the animal opts for the comfort of Minho's arms again, causing the former to dramatically draw a hand to his heart, feigning an oncoming heart attack at the blatant betrayal.

‘You named him Fredrick?’ Hyunjin, who had chosen to dismiss the act, questions.

‘Yeah, what of it?’

‘I suggested so many amazing names, and you end up with _fucking_ Fredrick?’

‘Don’t swear in front of him!’

Minho clears his throat, still cradling the tiny squirrel in his arms ‘Hey, um, excuse my informality, but who the hell are you?’

Jisung peers at Hyunjin from his peripheral view, feeling just as baffled as to why he was standing in front of The Lee Minho, but answers nevertheless ‘Han Jisung. It’s a pleasure,’

And then he does it. Grabbing the hand that wasn’t preoccupied with holding a tiny animal, he bends down - although at a smaller angle than before - and plants a short, quaint kiss over it.

In the midst of Minho furiously blushing at the unexpected act, and Hyunjin gazing wildly between the two in a mix of mild confusion and disgust, Jisung smiles brightly up at the older prince, hoping to all the Gods he didn't pray to that the warmth overtaking his features didn't translate into a beetroot red.

Seeming to sense the tension, the tiny squirrel jumps out of Minho’s grip, and runs away into a nearby tree. Minho, on instinct, moves to catch up with him, but Jisung holds him back before he can.

‘Don’t worry about him, Fredrick doesn’t stay in one place for too long. Just be glad that he liked you, he doesn’t normally warm up to people so quickly.’ He reassures.

Minho slowly nods, staring down at Jisung’s grip on his arm, before the younger snatched it away, mumbling apologies and patting down at the spot softly.

Hyunjin clears his throat ‘Anyways, Jisung…your house is close, right?’

‘Oh! Yes! I’m so glad I get to finally show you around, but I have to say, days before your big ceremony was not when I expected you to make the visit.’

Even though the pair had known each other for a while, Hyunjin had never found it in him to ever sneak back out of the castle with him, even if Jisung was there, and it was clear that the latter was a master of stealth, seeing as he’d never gotten caught _once_. So, the pair usually met up late at night, or during the day when they devised the right type of plan. But, it was never too far from the palace.

While on their trek back to Jisung’s humble abode, Minho found it in him to ask, ‘How did you guys meet?’

Simultaneously, Jisung and Hyunjin meet eyes, as if to ask the other if they wanted to tell him how things had actually gone down, for their first meeting was a little more than a bit peculiar. Eventually, after giving each other the same, curt nod, Hyunjin starts ‘It’s…a very interesting story,’


	2. The Tales of Han Jisung

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: descriptions of a house fire, references to past trauma, false charges

If you had told Han Jisung, the 10 year old boy with big dreams, who jumped around his parent’s cottage with a wooden sword brandished in one hand, and a wool blanket wrapped around his neck like a cape, that he would grow up to become a thief…he’d probably burst into tears.

You see, little Jisung had accumulated those big dreams as soon as he learned of the distant tales of his country’s history, and the bravery of their land’s royal guard, who fought to protect their people. Being the son of a small, humble blacksmith, he’d silently watch his dad as he worked into the later hours of the day, forging weaponry to be used by noblemen and clergy, jumping off of his tiny stool every once in a while to pass something over, or refill his dad’s cup when he noticed he finished his water.

While he quite liked the idea of taking after his father, and carrying on the Han’s blacksmithing business, he’d always known that his heart’s passion lied in the beautiful art of sword-fighting. He wanted nothing more, than to get the opportunity to be trained by some of the nation’s most honorable guardsmen. However, as things went, working class families always got the short end of the stick in bad situations. Han Jisung’s family was no exception to this.

When the young boy had turned 12, his family had been caught up in some controversy. Their joint cottage and workshop had been burnt down to a crisp. Jisung hadn’t been there, finding and watching with tearful eyes as his home was eaten alive by the fiery flames of an unforgiving beast, leaving behind nothing but ashes of nostalgia and regret. Townspeople were gathered, trying to drown out the fire as best they could, but its blazing terror only seemed to grow larger and scarier.

Jisung was never able to erase the imagery from his mind. He thought about it when he saw his parents behind bars for the first time, and when he sat through the court trial that determined them guilty of arson, and even as he was being driven to his new home, at the local orphanage.

Jisung knew, even back then, that his parents were not, and could not have been responsible for such transgressions. The accusations roped the pair into the fire that was set onto one of the Kim family’s manufacturing plants – which subsequently drew them into deep controversy and gossip, as the Kims were known to be one of the palace’s most loyal refurbishment suppliers. And, since they didn’t have any alibis to support both claims, having been in said city, around the area, when the fire caught, and in their home’s workshop when it was set on fire too.

But Jisung knew; he had his suspicions, and the more time that passed, the less he could see how the Kims could’ve been victim to this situation, not when they’d used their own 12 year old son’s ‘tears’ as leverage. Not when he knew his parents didn’t care to live a wealthy life. Not when he watched his father work overtime even if he knew he wouldn’t be compensated for it.

4 years following the dire events, Jisung never found that he was able to fully recover from that day. Every birthday, he’d bury himself under layers of blankets, and ignore the world around him. The friends he’d made at the orphanage knew eventually, to leave him alone. He didn’t have to tell them why, for they knew exactly why; everyone knew about the poor boy whose parents got convicted for two counts of 1st degree arson on his birthday. It was no surprise, then, that Jisung felt as if his motivations and dreams had also been devoured by the flames that took away his home.

For all those years, he felt hopeless and demotivated. That is, until, on the 4th year, he’d somehow gotten involved in a planned heist between a few of the orphanage kids. The gist of the plan was to distract their resident caretaker, long enough to be able to get the keys to the box in her office that held all of their confiscated goods. Ultimately, they’d almost gotten away with it, if it weren’t for the fact that a small slip-up in communication led them straight to the caretaker himself. Thankfully for Jisung, he’d managed to slip away himself, just in time to go unnoticed, his previously confiscated swordsman figurine on hand.

Eventually, the boy had built a habit of sneaking away to steal various artifacts that had been taken away from the kids for being too ‘childish’ or ‘restricting’. He couldn’t help but relish in the thrill and the rush of adrenaline he obtained from being able to bear such high risks and succeeding in not getting caught in the end.

After a couple of months saved towards finding time for his occasional night trips, Jisung eventually set out of the orphanage, a new plan in mind and a glint of determination in his heart that he hadn’t felt in a long time. Anticipating the casualties, he’d found a cabin after a long while of trekking around a forest at night, that was further enough away and looked abandoned to outsiders – so, it was perfect. He’d steal various nick-nacks at first, in fear of overstepping his boundaries. Then, he made it a habit to steal bits of food out of markets and stands. Through well-thought out tactics and going on long enough without getting caught, Jisung was able to expand his horizons and stole a bit more than he’d ever thought he could from some businesses out of town. Eventually, he’d amassed enough to be able to make value out of the stolen goods by selling them to fencers.

Though a lengthy process, Jisung was determined, and when he was determined, nothing could stop him from getting what he wanted. Not when he still fueled off of the anger and resentment he felt for the business that became the downfall of his family, and subsequently, his life. Ultimately, all Jisung wanted to do – for now, at least – was to accumulate enough to pay for lessons on swordsmanship, or anything that could get him closer to the goal he’d abandoned all those years ago.

About a year into his endeavors, Han Jisung became quite well-known amongst fencers for his agility and ability to complete missions with little to no repercussions. The most he’d faced was someone landing a quick glance at his masked figure retreating into the darkness. Other than that, no one had ever been able to catch him in the act, nor had anyone managed to see his real face.

With this notoriety, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to him when, on one feeble day, days before Jisung was to turn 18, he’d received the request to steal something from _the king’s castle_.

Jisung remembered reading said request for the first time. He had been happily munching on a savory croissant from the bakery downtown – yes, he’d actually bought this one – when he read those words, and subsequently, the tasty treat had gotten stuck at the back of his throat as he started choking on it, needing a few minutes to recover from the aftermath. He read it a second time, and then again, a third time. After the fourth time, he’d decided that he simply couldn’t do it. The biggest mission he had been put on since starting out was a trip to a highly-regarded antique shop, which had also been the closest he’d gotten to being caught, having stumbled into the view of a worker, and almost had his mask pulled off if it wasn’t for his quick thinking – that is, he’d thrown a blanket of silk at the worker’s face and ran out through the back at the speed of lightening.

But, then, he found himself staring back at the piece of paper later that night. _The reward was very high_ , he thought. If he carried this out now, a few tinier rewards later he’d probably amass enough to finally find security . After that, he didn’t know, but he was adamant on the fact that he could look forward to a brighter future if he could just pull this off right.

So, the next few days, he’d dedicated all his time to planning this out. His wooden desk was littered with parchment paper, detailing the logistics of his plan in messy ink, as well as whatever he could get his hands on that showed the castle’s floor plans. The more time that passed, the more Jisung could hear the theoretical clock ticking in his head become progressively louder the more he thought about how drastically horrible this could go.

Alas, D-day had arrived, and with a new-found determination, Jisung had spent the span of that day going over the plan in his head, over and over again, until night had befallen, and he forced himself out of the comfort of his little home. The trek to the castle wasn’t too long, as he had lived quite close to it, but his head had suddenly become so muddled up in trying to keep up with all of the information he was supposed to remember, that he felt like time was passing by slower, and all he could hear was the erratic beating of his heart, despite the loud crinkling of leaves and branches around him, and the distant sounds of the forest’s inhabitants – some of which he’d become friends with; particularly a grey squirrel that passed by his cabin every once in a while.

Eventually, Jisung had made it so that he had a clear view of the castle from where he was hiding behind a tree. A bothersome woodpecker settles onto a branch over his head while he’s hyper-focused and pecks at his black and red mask, to which he shoos the tiny bird away, ducking down so he could establish a better view of his target spot. Moving down as quickly as he possibly could, Jisung rushes down the steep knoll, to hide behind two big bushes at the corner of the main gate. If he’d worked the probability out right, there would only be two guards out on watch that night, one outside the main gate, who he could see was at the other side of the leveled gravel. Quickly, before he loses the opportunity, Jisung propped himself up between the two walls separated through the corner, using the special adhesive gloves he’d gotten a few months back from a fencer he worked with, to slowly climb up, careful not to rush, but also not to take too long, or he’d land directly in the vision of the guard on the other side of the gate.

After heaving himself over, Jisung drops down after reaching a considerably short distance from the ground. Swiftly, he moves over to the next corner, right by the starting point of what looked like a hedge maze. If his predictions were right, this would be a great blind spot from both the surveilling lights overhead and the nearest guard, who had just started walking back to the spot Jisung was in seconds ago.

Not a breath passes or sounds into the air until Jisung had to be on the move, yet again, practically sprinting over to where he knew was the easiest leigh-way into the castle, the kitchens. It was practically the perfect back entrance, and conveniently had a huge window that the castle’s kitchen workers liked to leave open as they worked throughout the day.

He hadn’t, however, expected for it to be cracked open right then and there. Thinking that he probably just had luck on his side, and ultimately feeling relieved that he didn’t have to terribly attempt to crack it open himself.

Climbing in, he’d landed right onto the countertop, and after moving to slide the window down a bit, he’d pulled his mask off, jumped down from the counter and took a moment to breathe the air in, feeling his erratic heartbeat momentarily slow down since he’d managed to succeed in the pilot phase of his plan. Seconds later, he gotten ready to put his mask back on, but halted at the sight in front of him, and immediately felt his heartbeat pick back up at unprecedented speed.

‘Hey,’ called out the figure in front of him, who had been leaning on a counter on the other side of the large kitchen.

Just his luck, the _fucking prince_ happens to be here right as soon I’m inside. This hadn’t been part of his calculations, never a part in his plan. The prince was supposed to be in bed by now.

Jisung responded in incoherent heaves for air, whispered mumblings that he was going to die, and various other things the prince couldn’t quite make out.

Hyunjin, _the fucking prince_ , slowly walked over to the boy, who quickly bent down in the biggest bow he could muster and anxiously squeaked out ‘I’m so sorry, Your Highness, I didn’t mean to alarm you this late at night, I just came here for– for a quick…snack.’ Jisung momentarily stopped, feeling the prince stop right at his feet, and his eyes on his overturned back.

Hyunjin slowly moved the shorter boy’s upper body back upright, stared into the depths of his eyes, as if looking for a window into his soul. Just as Jisung had started crafting up a death wish, the taller boy had released his grip from his shoulders and burst into a fit of laughter, managing the words between giggle spurts ‘A quick..snack! That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all week!’

Jisung, puzzled, and wondering whether it was too late to make a run for it – of course it was, he was stupid enough to expose his face to the _goddamn prince_ – awkwardly looked on at the boy in front of him, biting down on his bottom lip nervously.

Eventually, Hyunjin recovered, and then looked back at the boy in front of him, sighing out ‘Ease up, you look so stressed, I’m not going to do anything,’

Jisung gulped, still looking unsure as to what was happening right now.

Hyunjin grinned knowingly, picking up a piece of cloth and dropping it into Jisung’s hands. It was a parcel of cut-up baguette and slices of various cheeses ‘I was just finishing up; you can have the rest. You know, for the quick snack?’

Jisung felt his cheeks warm up in embarrassment. Was he mocking him? Was this possibly his last meal before he’d be beheaded in the morning?

Hyunjin moved over to lean against the counter Jisung had just landed on ‘Look, I know who you are. The mask,’ he motioned over to the mask that was still in Jisung’s hand ‘gave you away. Plus, your whole attire screams _‘I’m going to rob you’_ , don’t you think a more subtle look would work better in your favor?’

Jisung stuttered, trying to formulate any sentence he possibly could, but found that he effectively had no idea what to say, so Hyunjin decided to proceed ‘Anyways, don’t worry, I promise I’m not outing you or anything. My parents deserve to get looted at this point. Also, hello, I’m Hyunjin, didn’t get to formally introduce myself.’

Jisung, still dumbfounded, managed to respond, ‘I’m aware, Your Highness.’

The boy shakes his head vehemently in response ‘Please, no, I introduced myself as Hyunjin so you could just call me that. I hate those titles; it’s not like I’m above everyone else. Plus, I don’t know why you care, you _were_ just about to rob us.’

Jisung simply nods wordlessly. Hyunjin smiled, motioning for him to place the food back on the counter so they could eat together – even though he did just say that he was finished. Ultimately, Jisung decided it wouldn’t hurt to eat, even if Hyunjin had been lying to him, he’d at least know that he got some food in his system before being executed.

‘I’m Jisung.’ Jisung mumbled out after a minute of silent eating ‘H-Han Jisung.’

Hyunjin paused, bringing a hand up to his chin ‘Han Jisung. Where have I heard that name before?’

After a few seconds of wonderment, he comes to the realization himself ‘Oh, The Han family! blacksmiths right?’

Jisung’s eyes droop down, and he briefly looks back at the taller male, nodding slowly.

It seems like Hyunjin has his second revelation, breathing out a softer ‘oh’ as he noticed Jisung tensing up again.

Trying to evade the topic, Hyunjin cleared his throat ‘Listen, Jisung, clearly you came here for a little more than just food,’ The boy paused, evaluating his options, then moved closer to whisper, suddenly more weary of his surroundings ‘I’ll lend you some valuables from my room, they’ll no doubt cost a fortune – sorry for the flex –, and then I can help you sneak out through an easier route, how does that sound?’

‘What’s the catch?’ Jisung’s eyebrows furrow.

‘Only one thing,’ Hyunjin paused again, looking away as if to ponder over what he was going to say next ‘can you come here again?’

Jisung titled his head at this. He’d have expected something much worse, for why on earth would the prince want to see him again, unless it was to trick him after earning his trust. But, again, it wouldn’t make sense to do that when he could send him to the guards anytime he wanted to.

‘I just, I’m always here at night, usually to eat something, but it gets quite boring just sitting here alone. I miss the company of people my age, you know. And I can tell you’re a good guy, Jisung. Just, please, come here again. You don’t even have to say anything, you can just listen to me vent or something. Oh! And I’ll help you sneak in, if that part seems taxing; I have no idea how you didn’t get caught by any of the guards outside.’

Jisung purses his lips, and this time, meets Hyunjin’s eyes. The latter’s face read sorrow; an expression tainted with clear desperation. And, maybe it was his princely aura, or the shimmer in his sharp, persuasive eyes, but he ended up finally agreeing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no, i totally didn't think of the episode 'the tales of ba sing se' while making this chapter's title


	3. The Little Prince

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: lots of angst, fighting that *almost* gets physical

The king’s throne stood tallest and mightiest out of all three in the large palace hall, wherein a deep, red curtain splayed lavishly behind them as a backdrop. Right above them was the ancient tapestry that displayed an image of peace, through which Terrapax was able to build its nation and its name; an image constructed within months through hard perseverance and delicate needlework, alongside a similar tapestry hung up behind the Lee thrones in Terragloria.

Hyunjin’s throne stood to the left of his father’s, while his mother’s was to his right. The green guest thrones carved personally for the Lee family stood not too far from Hyunjin’s right, Minho being closest to him. And although the King of Terragloria was unable to show up, due to his ill state, his crown sat firmly on his designated throne’s cushioned seat.

Although he was supposed to feel as comfortable as possible, Hyunjin couldn’t help but feel his body physically tense up, seating himself on such a grandiose platform, made to look down at everyone else as if they were inferior; something just didn’t feel right. He was not made for the royal lifestyle, not wired to lead a kingdom, and be served by people solely for his blood worth. He admired Minho, for he had amazing leadership qualities, and only ever continued to expand in his knowledge and abilities, but he wasn’t like him. He was made to be king, Hyunjin wasn’t.

Just as a knot had made itself quite prominent at the base of his throat, Hyunjin felt a nudge at his side from his father, who waited for him to carry on his part. Reluctantly, Hyunjin stood up, attempting to gulp down the tension he’d swallowed upon overthinking while he was supposed to remain focused, and he started:

‘I’m honored to call myself a prince to this nation, a prince to these people, and these working hands that have shaped and built the spirit of the land that we live on today. We are a nation built on peace, and Terragloria is one built on glory. We’re honored, as this year’s hosts, to present your nobility and your prestige with this gift. May we continue to fend for each other in times of need, and look upon one another for guidance, as was made prominent in our rich, prosperous history. Thank you.’

Hyunjin meekly sat back down, receiving subdued applause from the few that were in the room – few, when taking into account the sheer vastness of the room. Hyunjin felt his shoulders slouch down a bit, having been tense as soon as his father started speaking, commencing the start of the test ceremony. Minho’s smile looked genuine, but Hyunjin’s mother’s didn’t, and his father didn’t even bother smiling, holding the same, aggravatingly passive expression. Meeting his eyes for a brief moment, his father motioned for him to look ahead. Again, he’d become aware of how specific and calculated all of his movements had to be, for everyone would be looking at him. And if he faltered, for even a second, he’d have his head on his father’s silver platter.

Hyunjin felt like throwing up. Everything about the event felt so formulaic and specific. Nothing felt genuine and real, and truthfully, while it never was, Hyunjin wished he could feel the same type of joy and happiness he felt as a kid while attending the very same ceremonies and parties. Nothing had changed, so why did it suddenly feel so tense and dry now?

But, there wasn’t much he could do, as he waited out the remainder of their rehearsal, hearing Minho speak with suave and confidence, attempting not to scoff at the satisfaction in his father’s eyes when he clapped for him, or the arm he wrapped around the latter’s shoulder, upon handing him the Terrapax artifact; a gift in exchange for whatever Terragloria had to offer – supposedly, they’d saved revealing it until the next day.

Even if it were all for show, which should’ve been obvious from the fact that they were practicing how Minho would be handed the artifact, his father still held his gaze on him with a pride and satisfaction that Hyunjin never received. And again, he found his heart sinking deeper and deeper with the passage of time. To make matters worse, towards the end of their speeches, Kim Seungmin and his father had been brought up onto the floor to shake hands with the king, and for a brief moment, Hyunjin had to pretend to tolerate the young Kim, by shaking his hand and maintaining a firm grip that wasn’t harsh enough to break the latter’s wrist – this proved to be hard not to do.

‘Good evening, prince. I have to say, I was pleasantly surprised to see you feign tolerance of my presence so well. I think I prefer our quarrels more, though–,’ Seungmin begins, having skipped over to Hyunjin, just as he was rushing out of the hall at the end of their rehearsal, stopping right in front of him so as to retrieve his attention.

‘Seriously? You talk like this all the time?’ Hyunjin groans, attempting to deepen his hardened stare.

Seungmin doesn’t flinch. ‘Of course, I’m a man of trade. Proper vernacular and primness must always be maintained.’

Hyunjin rolls his eyes; that sounded like something his father would say, and in retrospect, Hyunjin didn’t like much of what his father said. Pushing past the annoying boy in his way, Hyunjin continues power-walking his way out of the grand hall.

However, once again, he hears said boy trail behind him, and just as he was able to slam the door open and walk a safe distance away from the room full of people, Hyunjin stops in his tracks and turned around. Seungmin jumps, startled at the action, and Hyunjin tries not to display his alarm at how close behind him he had been.

‘Listen! I don’t get what your problem is, and I don’t know how much more obvious I can make it, but I don’t like you! I don’t know what it’ll take for you to understand that! _**I. Don’t. Like. You.**_ I don’t like your arrogance, I don’t like your self-elitism, and I don’t like how you talk to people who don’t have the kind of money you were graced with!’

With each point Hyunjin made, he’d subconsciously inched closer and closer to the shorter boy, each consecutive word knifing harder and harder into Seungmin’s initial spirit. It was obvious, through the way he held himself, that Hyunjin had created an aura of dominance and fury, and Seungmin felt himself shrink further and further under it, eventually feeling his back hit the wall, from having backed up far enough. Any sign of assertiveness and confidence that Seungmin may have presented himself with before, had completely diminished, and he felt his heart tremble at the taller boy’s dark gaze. It didn’t matter what he said now, Hyunjin had it out for him the second he saw him laugh at Chan for dropping a plate of refreshments; and while he thought no one had seen, he distinctly remembered seeing Seungmin push the butler’s cart against his side so as to knowingly manipulate the poor serviceman.

Seungmin saw something falter in the former’s eyes, and he couldn’t help but utter the next words, voice wavery from nervousness and fear:

‘You’re angry, but you’re also sad.’

‘What?! What the hell is that supposed to mean, Kim?’

‘I can tell. You’re angry, but only because you’re not happy. You’re shaking, and your eyes hold more than just vexation and irritation.’

Hyunjin furrowed his eyebrows, quickly moving away from the frustrating boy ‘Oh? What, you think you suddenly know everything about me? You think, by looking at the way that I carry myself, that you have me all figured out?’

Seungmin stuttered, trying to formulate a response, but felt his throat come up dry.

‘Predictable. Fucking predictable. I expect nothing less from _you_.’

And just like that, he runs away, leaving Seungmin to watch after him with sorrowful, tear-ridden eyes.

♚♔♚

Hyunjin huffs, a strand of his hair fluttering off of his right eye, where he hadn’t bothered to move it before. He was standing in front of his father’s grandiose throne, awaiting to get his chance to speak to him.

Time felt like it was passing in snail hours after his earlier fit, and Hyunjin felt himself drift off into space occasionally, mind ablaze with cloudy thoughts and harsh disclosure. He could already see everything about his stature and lack of propriety that his father would point out when he showed up, and as the man himself started approaching, made evident by the handful of guards by his side, he lets out a frustrated sigh.

His father, King of Terrapax, sat down on his throne, looks down at his son and eyes him expectantly. Reluctantly, Hyunjin dips his head down in a small bow, and questioned through gritted teeth ‘What was it that you wanted to talk about, Father?’

The addressed man groans, seeming displeased, yet again ‘Your posture is too relaxed, your hands are not clasped in the middle, your hair is disheveled, need I go on? Have you forgotten where you stand? Sometimes I wonder how I’ll ever be able to put this empire in your hands.’

‘I–,’

‘Don’t start speaking until I’m done. I don’t know if this is some kind of slump, or a phase, but I’ll assure you, that if you don’t clean up your act, there will be major consequences. Don’t get too comfortable and think yourself irreplaceable.’

Hyunjin gulped. Again, he had to hold himself back.

‘To think, my own flesh and blood, could be so careless and reprehensible. You did not inherit that from me, so where did you pick it up from? The street rats you befriend, the butlers you chat with. And when I bring you good people with good morals, you throw them to the side. You could’ve considered the implications of befriending Kim Seungmin, of working with him as an ally, but instead, I hear of this tomfoolery instead?’

Hyunjin’s eyes almost bulge out of their sockets, and he feels the knot in his chest tighten around his heart ‘W-what?’

The king glowered down at his son, continuing ‘You honestly believe anything that happens here will ever get past me?’ _yes, countless things have._

‘Minho, you need to understand the implications behind your–,’

‘Hyunjin.’ Hyunjin sounds, everything from grit, spite, and bitterness lacing his tone ‘Remember, Hyunjin, _your son_?’

‘Right. Hyunjin,’ the king proceeded, a dismissiveness in his tone and maybe, just maybe, a splinter of remorse – then again, maybe Hyunjin was just clinging onto hope.

‘Are you serious? You’re just going to move on from that? You wanted to talk, didn’t you? So, why can’t _I_ complain, why is it always about how others feel, and not about how _I_ feel. I’ve been _different_ because I’ve never felt so restricted and neglected in my entire life! Maybe having an actual family, where I don’t just become a number on your schedule, showed me how much warmth and love I’ve been missing out on all these years!’

With that, Hyunjin stormed away, head buzzing furiously. He slams the doors open, dismissing the hands that attempt to stop him, blocking out the harsh words that echoed off the walls menacingly.

_‘Love? I guarantee you, if you don’t clean up your act, you’ll never be loved for as long as you live. Not with your weakened, powerless spirit.’_

♚♔♚

_2 knocks. No response._

_2 more knocks. No response._

Minho stood on the other side of the door, sighing to himself, feeling the dread sinking out of the small cracks through the doors to Hyunjin’s room.

‘Jinnie, please, at least let me know how you’re feeling,’

The pair had established a nice knock-based system that either highlighted the sense of urgency in different situations or communicated how they felt. Knocking once meant it was good news, knocking twice meant that it was somewhere in the middle or they were conflicted, and knocking three times meant that it was bad. But, knocking four times meant that it was dreadfully bad. So bad, that you might not want to bother them at all.

4 consecutive knocks sounded, from where Hyunjin had weakly raised a hand to knock at his bed’s headboard.

Minho felt his heart drop, and he tamely responded – softly and quietly, but loud enough that the younger boy would be able to hear him:

‘I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want right now. But, I promise, if you let me in, I won’t force you to talk, or explain anything. I’m here for you Jinnie, always.’

A few seconds pass in deafening silence. Then, Minho jumps at the sound of the lock turning, and then a head of black hair peering out of the cracks. Hyunjin looked miserable, to say the least. His hair fell over his eyes, but a ring of darkness could be seen around each pair, still. His shoulders were slumped, and he looked small, despite his tall stature.

Minho moves forward, gently taking hold of the younger boy as he leads them inside and locks the door behind him. Upon turning back around, he’d expected to find Hyunjin back in bed, head shoved into his numerous pillows and sheets. Instead, he’d almost fallen over as Hyunjin threw his arms around him.

He shoves his face into the elder’s neck, tears cascading down his cheeks and onto it incessantly. Using one hand to rub circles into the boy’s back, Minho’s other hand fell onto Hyunjin’s messy locks, gently stroking and running his fingers through it comfortingly, occasionally murmuring an ‘it’s ok,’ and an ‘I know, love, I know,’.

For a while, they remained like that, until eventually, Hyunjin’s tears diminished, body still wracking and shaking furiously at the sobbing mess he’d been previously reduced to. Gently and slowly, Minho leads him back to his bed, and holds onto him still, as they lay themselves down.

Again, for a while, no words are exchanged. Minho maintains his grip on the younger boy, as his hand continues stroking Hyunjin’s soft locks – somehow, they were still soft. Until, Hyunjin speaks up, voice croaky and uneasy from being unused for so long.

‘Thank you.’

Minho shakes his head ever so slightly, so as to not agitate the boy whose head lay on his chest ‘You shouldn’t have to thank me. You deserve all the pampering and care in the world.’

Hyunjin chose not to speak up again, favoring the comfortable silence they’d established. Minho’s head perks up suddenly, remembering something ‘Hey, you didn’t open that gift I gave you, right?’ referring to the one he had handed him the day he came back, making him promise that he’d open it on ceremony day.

Hyunjin mumbles a small ‘Mhm’ and Minho sees this as his cue to run over to the other side of the room, to retrieve the heavy box that held the important gift, ignoring the small whines that left Hyunjin’s mouth. Minho quickly runs back and plops onto the bed again, placing the box between them.

Hyunjin picks the box up and admires it. It was green and silver, like Terragloria’s colors, and the clasp that kept it closed carried their emblem. Delicate and pretty intricacy aside, Hyunjin’s mind was leaning more towards the contents of the box. Upon looking up at Minho, he finds him relentlessly motioning for him to open it.

Hyunjin moves slowly, opening the clasp that kept the contents of the box hidden, and finally, peering into what was inside. With a gasp, Hyunjin pulls out a book entitled ‘The Little Prince’, feeling his heart practically leap with joy.

‘Minho! Is this –,’

‘Yes! It’s the same one we read as kids! You can even see our little doodles on the first page!’

Hyunjin giggles to himself, opening up the book to the very first page, running his hands over the pair’s attempt at putting down their signatures, the tiny inscription of ‘property of: 2 little princes’, and lastly, over Minho’s stick figure interpretations of them.

Hyunjin’s heart warms at the distant memories of two small princes, running around the library of the Terragloria royal palace, and hiding certain books away from their parents, so they could write whatever they wanted on them and read to each other as often as they liked. For as long as either could remember, The Little Prince held a special, designated place in their heart.

Minho feels himself instinctively grin, admiring his little brother marvel and flip to random pages, feeling each one as if each one revealed a different memory stored in the abyss of his grand mind ‘I know you’ll remember it well, but the heart and core of this story was to ensure that even through the dangers of narrow-mindedness and arrogance, the little prince was able to find enlightenment and view things differently, with the narrator’s help. Remember, when we used to stare up at the sky, and wondered whether the little prince was happily living out the rest of his days with his rose? There’s always room to hold onto hope, always room to find something beautiful and reassuring when all you see around you is pure chaos. Sometimes, you just need to sit and smell the roses.’

Hyunjin’s eyes glimmer brightly, heart filling with a new form of contentedness and happiness that he hadn’t felt for, what felt like forever. That night, he bid his older brother goodbye in a long, bone-crushing embrace, and sat out on his balcony, eyes staring dumbfoundedly at the stars overhead. Why hadn’t he ever noticed how they shined so brightly at this time of year?

He went to sleep that night with a warmth in his chest to replace the usual, constant dread that filled it. He thought about his friends, the people in the villages and town centers nearby, and then he thought about his brother. Of course, his parents barely crossed his mind, for he was trying to maintain positive thoughts only.

He went to sleep, and dreamt of a little prince, using what little willpower he had to climb onto a narrator’s plane, and fly over back to his home on an asteroid, where his friend, the rose, resided peacefully.


	4. Hazy Nights and Grey Squirrels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: anxiety attacks, hurt/comfort

Terrapax and Terragloria were closed off from the rest of the world in certain ways. While, every once in a while, they could get their hands on certain things or inventions that fell out of their transparent, sleek, protective borders, it was generally looked down upon. ‘The Little Prince’ was one such thing; an invention ahead of the nations’ time. Quite literally, the year was 1957, but the two nations lived in the 19th century, and decidedly, planned on never leaving it. In achieving what they deemed to be ‘eternal peace and glory’, they had distanced themselves away from the rest of the world. For, the epitome of their reliance on one another, was built off of the fact that before then, Terrapax was thrown to the side as purposeless and nationless while Terragloria was deemed defenseless and nationless. When everyone else had turned on them, they helped pick each other up.

Hyunjin believes that, next to the garden, one of the most beautiful rooms in the palace was the one that was built solely to lead you to the Grand Hall, the Vestibule. It was a slender room, with golden, marble floors and a glimmering ceiling through which a display of Terrapax’s history and its freedom from the restraints of interrelations past that of Terragloria, had been carved upon it.

The carvings extended, covering the corners of the walls too, drawing up countless stories of old mythology; mermaids, centaurs, werewolves, and other magical beings. If that wasn’t enough to keep one’s eyes trained and wide in wonderment, the wall to the right was made up of large, tinted windows, with small cracks that allowed the sun’s radiant glow to seep through, joining the cacophony of colors that splayed on the marble floor from the window’s colorful array.

Hyunjin had woken up happy today. He decided, this was progress. He hadn’t realized, how long it had been, since he’d woken up feeling bright, sunny, and ready to start the day. Especially considering the fact that he had to be dressed and ready when it was still bright and early. Minho was a bit flabbergasted when he became met with Hyunjin’s exuberance and radiance, ushering him to finish quick so they could get a good breakfast in.

It seemed like; _everyone_ had noticed the boy’s sudden change in mood.

_‘Good morning, Chamberlain!’_

_‘Good morning, Lord Kang, Lady Kang!’_

_‘Good morning, everyone!’_

_‘Good morning, Chan!’_

Chan’s head turns to the side at that, bewildered at the sound of the boy’s booming voice ‘Prince Hyunjin! Good morning!’

Hyunjin welcomes everyone at the kitchen, furiously working for the day’s events, thanking them for their hard work as he passed by everyone, smiling down at some of the kids that came along with some of the workers that lived on palace grounds.

Chan raises a curious brow, emulating Hyunjin’s contagious grin ‘You seem awfully happy today! Don’t worry, that’s a good thing!’

Hyunjin chuckles back, swiping up a sugar cookie off of one of the metal wracks, immediately wincing at the scorching hot treat, but eventually regaining himself and beaming through the pain, raising a thumbs up at the baker that was tending to them.

A voice by the doorway startles the two due to its sheer volume ‘HYUNJIN!’

Standing by the large kitchen’s doorway was none other than Yang Jeongin, the eldest of the royal chef’s sons. The boy had been on a temporary leave with his father, for an external opportunity, where Jeongin had been sent to a training program in Terragloria. Naturally, having been away for months, Jeongin seemed to forget that he had to uphold a certain etiquette around the royals – or, at least, when others were around – as he had gotten scolded by some of the kitchen workers. Albeit, lightheartedly, as they’d all treated Jeongin like he was their own son.

Hyunjin’s smile only expands, dimples as prominent as can be, rivaling the younger chef’s bright grin. Although the action would normally be looked down upon, when Hyunjin sprints over to wrap his arms around his younger friend in a warm, tight embrace, the kitchen workers simply coo at the pair.

Besides, nothing would stop Hyunjin from giving his best friends the hugs they deserve.

‘I’ve missed you, little one.’ Hyunjin tuts, leaning on the younger boy as he raised a hand to poke one of his deep dimples.

Jeongin swats at his hand, proclaiming ‘I’m almost as tall as you!’

At that, Chan whips his head around faster than one can say ‘Hello!’, and ran his eyes over the younger in disbelief ‘Since when have you gotten so tall?’

Jeongin chuckles animatedly, wrapping an arm around Chan’s shorter stature, and making an emphasis of looking down at the older boy ‘Every time one of you annoys me, I grow a millimeter, so here we are,’

Chan glares up at the younger boy, holding back a groan at the fact that the younger managed to grow a centimeter taller than him, and then several more in the span of just a few months ‘Watch it, Yang.’

Jeongin pouts, walking back to an amused Hyunjin, who scuffs his hair up when he’s close enough, ignoring the younger’s exclamation of _‘Hey! My mom just made my hair.’_

The reunion was cut shortly, unfortunately for the three, as Hyunjin had eventually been rushed to the morning’s breakfast, as daily palace activities had been dialed to 2x the normal speed. The tension of being seated in the same table as his father might’ve been palpable and deeply taut, but Hyunjin distracted himself, yet again, through Minho’s presence. The strange part was, Minho himself didn’t seem to be radiating sunshine and rainbows that particular day, as he might’ve appeared neat and put-together, but the boy’s dark circles and distant frown said otherwise.

‘Minho…Minho…Minho!!’ Hyunjin whisper yells, smacking the elder’s arm at the last call out of his name, so as to garner his attention.

‘What?!’ Minho groans, finally meeting the younger’s eyes after staring into space for a few minutes.

‘Didn’t sleep well?’

Minho doesn’t reply.

‘Yeah, thought so. What were you doing after I went to sleep last night?’ Hyunjin prods knowingly, grabbing a piece of sliced baguette.

‘Why do you have to assume I did something? Maybe I just…couldn’t sleep.’ Minho murmurs distantly, coming close to falling asleep right then and there.

Hyunjin almost bursts into laughter, but then remembers where he was ‘Right. You fall asleep in literal seconds, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you take a moment to think about anything before going to sleep. I envy you for it, honestly.’

Minho sighs ‘It is, undeniably, my best talent,’ he hesitates, wondering if he wanted to keep Hyunjin in the know, seeing as he was still staring down at him, even while spreading butter onto his bread.

Grimacing, he gives in, muttering the next words as quietly as possible ‘Fine, whatever. I was with that stupid friend of yours who lives in the woods,’

Hyunjin nearly chokes on his own spit, immensely thankful that he hadn’t yet started eating again ‘Jisung?!’

Even as the younger had just, very aggressively, shout-whispered the name, Minho was quick to shush him ‘Yes, ok! It was only supposed to be for a bit, right after I made sure you were asleep. But, that was so late, that I lost track of time, and didn’t end up getting much sleep.’

It would be the biggest understatement in the world to say that Hyunjin was confused and appalled at the boy’s words, and he couldn’t help but voice out his thoughts ‘What– What did you guys…do?’

Minho raised an inquisitive brow at the query, lazily smiling at the boy’s inquisitiveness ‘What are you insinuating?’

Hyunjin grows flustered and lightly kicks at the elder’s leg from underneath the grand table ‘Stop being weird! I just mean, I can’t imagine any scenario in which you two could have a conversation.’

Minho chuckles ‘We talked about you, idiot. What else would the two of us have in common? I only did it out of concern too, I still can’t believe you befriended a thief.’

‘Jisung has valid reasons for his line of work, ok! And besides, I’ve gotten him to lighten the load a bit, and he stopped stealing from local vendors.’ Hyunjin pauses, his train of throat having drifted off topic for a bit ‘I still don’t understand why you wouldn’t have gone to Chan or Changbin? Especially when they live here.’

Minho sighs, continuing ‘I didn’t go there _with_ the intent of asking or talking about you. _Don’t look at me like that_. I honestly– ugh, ok, I went back for the squirrel.’

‘Fredrick?’ Hyunjin had to bring a palm up to muffle his giggles.

Minho rolled his eyes at the action ‘Yes. That, and to see if I could find anything else of interest; as far as I know, the ‘Silva Pacis’ is home to numerous different animals, including squirrels, foxes, bunnies, sloths, goats. You get the point. I’ve been reading and studying these creatures for quite some time, and there has always been an aura of friendliness and purity in their existence. I experienced that firsthand with that squirrel, and I couldn’t help but think about what else I could find out there.’

Hyunjin mindlessly chews on his food, listening to Minho ramble ceaselessly, the words getting caught under his sleepy daze ‘Right, and Jisung?’

‘Oh, right. I ran into him. Coincidentally, he was running around, trying to find Fredrick, so I decided to tag along. Inevitably, we talked. That’s all that happened, satisfied?’

Hyunjin mumbles a ‘mhm’ in the midst of his chewing, and Minho shakes his head at the younger, a small smile etching onto his tired visage.

Still, Hyunjin didn’t seem to be fully convinced ‘And nothing else happened?’

‘Yes, Hyunjin, nothing else.’

♚♔♚

_**The night before; approximately 1:30 AM** _

Minho’s heart drums in his chest, the biting cold of the wind grazing his exposed cheeks and painting them a pretty pink, a strange contrast from the heat of the previous night out like this, when Minho had been sweating under the sweltering, dark layers he was adorning.

A strategist was careful and took their time with things, if, of course, there was time to think. Minho was a strategist; however, he simply didn’t have time to think before he decided to make a midnight trek out of palace grounds, his years of stealth training coming in handy. Decidedly, he was currently in a very compromising situation, hiding behind one of the palace’s large pillars, and attempting to shush the horse that he’d accidentally woken up on his trek.

Slowly, and with a hand raised up at said horse, Minho reaches into his satchel, which had been obscured by his dark, emerald green cape, and took out a small, yellow apple. With enough speed, so as to not risk getting caught, and enough resilience, so as to not startle the horse, Minho handed it the small apple, lightly grazing its head out of instinct.

Quickly, Minho moved back into the darkness and took off on a quite unconventional route – albeit, the best he could do, given the fact that if he asked Changbin to let him through, so he could look at some animals at a forest, he’d likely crucify him –, the horse stable. It was at the back of the palace and had a one way exit from the inside. Minho found himself thanking his lucky stars that he’d retrieved food from the kitchen for the forest friends.

Silva Pacis was an interesting forest. Locals described it as enchanting, with the way that the trees almost always held the glow of fireflies. They stuck to the branches at night to luminate the way for travelers and explorers. Said travelers report that the blissful aura, bewitching glow, and captivating forestry caused them to linger in its surroundings.

And while Minho was certainly intrigued by these beguiling elements, especially after having read about its rare array of animal and plant species, he didn’t anticipate driving himself away from the palace at 1:30AM, but if that’s what it took to seek out more forest friends and admire the forestry without any distractions, then so be it.

It seemed like, while focused on reaping the benefits of going out alone, the fact that Minho would be alone, in the dark of the night, with nothing but a few, natural, sources of light – the glow of the forestry was only prevalent when you went deep enough into the forest – completely went over his head. It was clear that, despite Minho’s impeccable defense and combat skills, nothing would change the fact that he didn’t handle the dark well.

Ever since Minho was young, the fear of the dark reigned as one of his deepest, most impenetrable. No matter what, the thought of complete darkness surrounding him, cloaking the one thing he could rely on to save him from danger – his eyes – was too much to bear. No matter how skilled he is, Minho couldn’t deny that he relied the most on his ability to see and calculate his movements through sight. If he couldn’t see, his impenetrable shield was immediately lifted, and he’s no longer the brave, young soldier anymore.

Minho’s trek somehow only got darker and darker the more he made his way into, where he thought, was the heart of the forest. Instead, he walked aimlessly, feeling his senses heighten and his shield dwindle. The cold continues to bite at his exposed skin, his hands feeling as if they’ve been penetrated with pins and needles, even through the thick material of his leather gloves.

‘Shit.’ Minho felt his eyes begin to water, his head feeling lighter and lighter, feeling the familiar sharp, pang hit his chest, and his lungs fill with theoretical water.

No matter how much he tries to ignore it, imagery of a murkier time flashes through Minho’s head. How is he meant to ignore it, when all that surrounds him is pure darkness? Everywhere he looks, he sees the same, luminous figure peak at him from the gloom of the night. It grins at him, and sneers at him to stop whining.

His shield has shattered. Minho falls to his knees, a shaky ringing in his ears causing him to attempt to shout over it as furiously as possible, cowering in his smallest form for fear of what could jump out at him at any moment. His lungs burn, begging for air.

Before he can even gasp out for help, Minho feels a hand on his back, and a small, familiar voice sound out from in front of him. The ringing stops.

Slowly moving his hands down, Minho wearily opens his eyes again and looks back at the figure besides him, and even through the blur of his tears, he recognizes the familiar features of Han Jisung.

‘I-I’m sorry if I startled you. Are you ok? That’s a stupid question. Do you need anything? Are you lost?’

Minho’s hands frantically rubbed at his eyes to rid them of the tears they’d accumulated, and he quickly stuttered out a reply ‘I’m fine, sorry.’

Jisung’s mouth opened and closed a few times in a goldfish-like manner, and he tried to find the words ‘Oh, dear, uhm, here,’ Jisung handed the prince a small canister of water, and urged him to take small sips, assisting him on breathing techniques between each one.

‘Name three things you can see.’ Jisung quips suddenly, after Minho’s third sip of water ‘Don’t question it. I promise, it’ll help.’

Minho gulps, feeling his chest and his lungs twist weirdly still ‘Uhm…I see, blue leaves, branches, and,’ only then, was Minho’s attention brought to the warm source of light in Jisung’s hands ‘your fire lamp.’

Jisung hums, rubbing at Minho’s back encouragingly ‘Good. Next, three things you can hear?’

‘Crickets, the crackling of leaves, and…you.’

Jisung beams ‘Good. Do you feel any better? Head still spinning, breath still heavy?’

Minho shakes his head; the water in his lungs seemed to have evaporated away already. Jisung nodded in response, but continues ‘Are you sure you’re ok, though? I could take you back to my cabin. It’s not much, especially for a prince, but it’s the least I can do.’

Minho shakes his head again, but spoke up this time ‘No, that’s alright. But could you stay with me, please?’

Jisung’s eyes widen a bit ‘Oh, sure! Of course! Where are you heading?’

Minho bites at his lip nervously and thinks for a bit ‘I’m…not sure anymore. I just came here to venture and look around the forest a bit. Do you happen to know where the very center of it all is? Where the forestry glows the brightest, and most of the animals gather?’

Jisung’s mouth forms an ‘O’ as he reminisces to himself ‘Ah, yes, I’ve only ever been there once, though! I think it’d be better if you went a bit earlier, there aren’t as many creatures roaming around now, not even nocturnal ones! Oh– uhm,’ Jisung seemed to remember that they were still on the ground, and quickly stood up, offering his hand for the prince to take.

Minho stares at the younger’s hand for a few seconds, gaining a sense of déjà vu, and timidly grabbed it, allowing him to lift him up. He tried not to dwell on his thoughts too much, but he couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed that he’d eventually let his hand go when they were both standing and Jisung made sure he was ok.

‘Anyways, I’d still be happy to lead you to a spot with more light if that’s what you’d like! I was going to head there anyways; I think Fredrick ran off there again.’ Jisung frowns, jutting out his bottom lip in a pout.

Minho resists the urge to coo at the shorter boy, and instead decides, grinning down at the shorter boy ‘I’d really appreciate that. I can help you with the little guy too if you’d like?’

Jisung gasps, almost leaping from excitement ‘Oh my god, please do! I don’t know how you got him to warm up to you so quickly, do you happen to be some sort of squirrel whisperer?’

Minho’s grin only widens as he replies, starting to follow behind where Jisung started walking ‘Ah, I wouldn’t say that. I guess I just know how to approach animals, and such.’

‘I’d assume it’s a prince thing if I didn’t know Hyunjin.’ Jisung hums.

‘It’s just a Minho thing.’ Minho giggles.

‘Oh wow.’ Jisung accidentally voiced out, dazedly and shamelessly staring up at the prince before him.

_Jisung would make a million more jokes if it meant that he could hear Minho’s laugh a million more times._

♚♔♚

‘Right now, is when I would usually give them something to eat, but he looks like he isn’t too hungry right now, so it’s best not to bug them, or they’ll get annoyed and leave.’

Jisung hums, mentally noting down everything Minho was recounting to him, staring up at him as if he was his greatest mentor.

The two boys were sat in front of one another, cross-legged, with Fredrick resting peacefully in Minho’s arms, tail waving about a bit in serenity as it wrapped around his small frame.

The pair stared down at the squirrel in adoration, making a fuss over his tiny figure nestled warmly in Minho’s arms. Jisung then, made the grave mistake of looking up to gape at the holder’s warm gaze too, who still had his eyes set on the tiny creature in his arms.

Jisung couldn’t help but keep his eyes trained on the prince; everything from the way his brown hair fell slightly over his eyes, the way his pretty eyes sparkled and glimmered in the light of the night, and even the way the small amount of glow around them illuminated his face.

Minho looks up, having felt the deep gaze settle on him, and met Jisung’s eyes immediately. Expecting the younger to look away in embarrassment, Minho was surprised to find his eyes shamelessly train over his own, still. He didn’t complain, however, as he found himself willingly linger on Jisung’s face too; everything from the way his wide eyes held a certain glow that shined brighter than the fireflies around them, to the way his dark hair always stuck up in different directions. And then, he’d made a revelation.

‘You…you look like Fredrick a bit.’

‘Huh?’

‘You kind of look like a squirrel. No one’s ever told you this?’

Jisung’s eyes squint in disbelief, staggering over his words a bit ‘I…no? I’ve never seen anyone be compared to an animal.’

‘Really? Well. You’ve witnessed it first here, then, Squirrel.’

Jisung furrowed his eyebrows, and let out a straggled chuckle ‘How do I look like a squirrel to you?’

Minho hummed, moving his face closer to the younger brazenly, and raised a hand to poke at every feature he pointed out ‘You have the same beady, wide eyes, the same small mouth, the same big cheeks, need I go on?’

Jisung moves away, feeling his face heat up furiously at the elder’s bold actions, and sounded out a strange, panicky, staggery slew of sounds ‘No, no, I get it.’

Minho sighs to himself ‘I don’t understand why people seem to hate the idea of having pet names that are actually pet names. Is it not endearing, Squirrel?’

‘Well, what would you like to be called?’

Minho couldn’t hide his surprise. He expected Jisung to dismiss his ideas, just as Hyunjin usually did.

‘Well, what do I remind you of?’

‘Hm,’ Jisung ponders over it for a bit ‘Kitten?’

Minho’s eyes almost burst out of their sockets, feeling the wires and screws in his brain begin to dismantle ‘W-why kitten? Why not cat?’

Jisung shrugged ‘I don’t know. You have feline-like eyes and soft features, but they resemble a little kitten’s more than a grown cat. Very soft, very inquisitive.’

_Minho’s ears must’ve been flaming red, but if Jisung asked, he’d lie and say it was just the cold._


	5. The Ceremony

**“All grown-ups were once children… but only few of them remember it.”**

Hyunjin’s eyes meticulously read over the words, seemingly unable to move to the next line. It was such a simple line, but it seemed to alarmingly echo through his head, as if to taunt him and belittle any shred of hope he still held.

Surely, he’d be beckoned downstairs sometime soon, for the Ceremony was to begin soon. Perhaps by a servant, maybe Chan, maybe Minho. Certainly, he hadn’t expected to see his mother peak her head in through the small crack of the doors.

On instinct, he’d jumped in surprise and shoved the book under the bed, in hopes that the woman by the door didn’t notice him doing so. Based off of the quip of her eyebrow, and the sliver of a humorous smile on her face, Hyunjin had to assume that she did.

His mother had been adorned in her newly tailored gown, the tail of which had to be held within her fists to avoid tripping over the heavy fabric. She looked much younger than her age; it was a striking difference from his prominently aging father.

‘What was that?’

Hyunjin stands up from off his bed feverishly, chuckling awkwardly so as to poorly disguise his secret ‘Nothing! Just a bit surprised, is all.’

Dismissing this, his mother still picks up the thick book peeking out of Hyunjin’s royal bed sheets and smiles knowingly at the title before her.

‘Ah, it’s this, hm?’

Hyunjin sighs, sinking back into his seat on the foot of his bed ‘Yeah. Are you mad?’

‘No, no, of course not, dear,’ She sits herself down beside him, opening up to the first page and chuckling at the tiny doodles made by the pair of younger princes ‘You used to love this story. Kept telling me that you wanted to travel to the moon one day. Your father–,’

‘Why are you here, mother?’

She sets the book down, eyes glimmering with a sorrowful shine ‘I…wanted to apologize for my behavior as of late, Jinnie,’

His heart almost stopped beating at that, a distant murmur reverberating within the confines of his mind at the nostalgia of the nickname. Whispers trail past his ears, even through the thickening silence.

_She hadn’t called him that in so long._

‘Why?’

A bittersweet smile paints her features now, and she raises a hand to rest on his right cheek ‘I’ve been dismissive, I know. Neglectful, unreliable, these words can’t even begin to explain the extent of it. So focused on why you might be acting up, when all that mattered was that i ensured you knew you’d have someone to hoist you up on dreary days.’

‘Mother,’ Hyunjin’s voice stammers, he seems to be at a loss for words, at a loss to convey how he truly felt.

Luckily, Hyunjin doesn’t feel awfully pressured to speak this time, as his mother continues to wordlessly thread her arms around the boy’s unsuspecting figure. His mother’s hugs had conveyed a different feeling. They remind him of a warm summer’s day, out for a picnic with his mother, surrounded by white flowers that signified serenity and purity.

That’s how he felt, he thought, a feeling he’d thought could only be felt so strongly under the guise of daydreams or nighttime imaginations.

His mother gently strokes his hair, careful so as to not tamper with its styling, just as she did when he scraped his knee against the ground as a kid ‘I know, love, I know. It’ll all work out, I promise.’

They stayed like that for some time, surrounded by pure silence, until she’d cut it off to speak again ‘When I first became a princess, I was forced to leave my family behind. I didn’t have much of a say,’

Hyunjin sniffled, waiting for her to continue.

‘Just the kind of thing that happened. My family kept quiet, for how could they deny such a valiant request. I was glued to the eyes of the press, preened to suit such an image. They treated the prince’s courting of a peasant to be one akin to fairytales, he’d even been praised for it. Throughout such mess, you know what kept me standing?’

Hyunjin’s eyes are half-lidded, as if he’s content in listening to another one of his mother’s enchanting stories, his head barely turning as he hums, awaiting an answer that seemed so hard to decipher.

‘You. From the moment you were born, and I held you in my arms just as I am now. You were my first beacon of hope; that’s when I decided to make the best of my situation. He said he didn’t want me to, but I’d implement ideas into your father’s mind, even with subtlety. God knows he needs a little more than a push to change his mind.’

Hyunjin giggles a bit at that, making the honorable queen brandish her own dazzling grin ‘I missed your laugh, Jinnie.’

‘Very well. You need not worry, I shall stall for you; you can come downstairs whenever you feel like it.’ She continues, looking past to the doors that led outside.

And with a short kiss on his temple, she gazes down lovingly at her son one more time, before making her way out of the room, waving as the doors close behind her.

♚♔♚

‘Have you ever thought about this statue?’

Minho looks up at said figure, running his eyes over it. It was a sculpture of a strange chimerical creature just by the main entrance of the large hall, which lead to the palace courtyard.

‘I don’t normally ponder over inanimate objects, but I assume you mean to ask what it is?’ Minho continues, sensing the younger’s disdain and sharp glare ‘It’s a Qilin, a mythical beast that appears with the imminent birth or death of a sage or ruler.’

Hyunjin chuckles to himself ‘You just remember these things off the top of your head?’

‘I read, Ferret, you should try it sometime.’

Hyunjin shakes his head ‘The books you read are boring, I’ll stick to my short stories.’

Minho chuckles, reaching to ruffle the younger’s hair, who bats at his hand quickly, feeling his gold crown almost slip off.

‘Anything of interest amongst the hors d’oeuvres, Your Highnesses?’ Chan had popped up from behind them, momentarily uplifting their generally princely charm, as they jump in unison – which they seem to do a lot for heirs to a throne.

Chan’s plate held an array of delicately placed, tiny, hors d’oeuvres that looked positively unappetizing to the two, simple, men.

Chan leans in to whisper thereafter ‘Don’t worry, I’ll sneak something in for you later.’

Hyunjin smiles gratefully. It had been hours since they’d eaten, and he was growing dreadfully tired following the day’s strenuous pace. More than anything, he wanted nothing more than to sit out at the back garden and gaze at the flowers and the rushing fountain water, and maybe even sneak in a chat with the gardener if he happened to be there, tending to anything.

Alas, the night had come to the part he’d dreaded the most. Since Hyunjin had turned 19 that year, his parents had been, not very subtly, implementing the idea into his head that he needed to find himself a ‘maiden’. Since Terrapax wasn’t in contact with any nations other than Terragloria, his ‘contenders’ for marriage were usually women of high regality, under families with known Lords. More often than not, they’d be pit up against a group of other women if enough time had passed and the prince still hadn’t decided on one. It was a game that Hyunjin vowed to never play.

Unfortunately, against his own wishes, he’d have to dance with said suitors that night. To say he was frustrated would be the understatement of the century.

Suiter number one didn’t seem like she wanted to be there either, so they bonded over the shared disinterest.

_‘No offence, Prince, but I don’t really want to marry you.’_

_‘Likewise. We should be friends,’_

Suitor number three seemed extremely jittery. She seemed adamant to recite the specific lines given to her, in an attempt to woo him. He felt terribly bad for her, for it really didn’t matter what anyone said to him. In the end, he remained completely unwavering in his stance.

_‘What, with, the ability to lead such a busy lifestyle, I’m sure you’d want a wife that would cherish you just the right way! And…perhaps, uhm, you’ll need someone who can stay out of your business and–,’_

Suitor number three was absolutely horrendous, whispering lewd things in his ear every time he was close enough, trailing her hand over his chest whenever he tried moving away, despite him trying to move it back to his shoulder every single time. Plus, she kept prodding at the red jewels on his crown, which at least removed her from his parents’ favor – his father did not bat an eye at the assault, but he crossed the line at his precious jewels. Uncomfortable and disoriented, Hyunjin felt he was ready to call it a day.

The fourth, and last, suitor seemed like she should’ve been the perfect match, as was evident on Minho’s _‘this one seems fine’_ expression from across the room, and his mother’s anticipated grin. Surely, she was lovely, and had a nice chat with him while they were dancing. She was the obvious pick amongst the 4 if he was forced to choose. But that was the thing; he truly, didn’t see himself marrying any of these women.

Why did it feel so wrong; if he couldn’t even find interest in pursuing such a genuinely kind girl, would he ever find himself _anyone_ to spend his life with?

Bowing to the last girl, Hyunjin had been ready to call it a day and ask his mother if he could go to bed. Unfortunately for his terrible luck, he’d felt a tap on his shoulder from just behind him. It would've been hard to imagine the sheer magnitude of his surprise, as he turns around, and meets the daunting eyes of Kim Seungmin, the very same.

‘What do you want?’ Hyunjin _whispers_ harshly, so as to not cause a scene.

Seungmin’s gaze _almost_ falters, but he keeps going ‘May I please have this dance, your Highness?’ He’d asked, holding a palm out for the prince to take.

Hyunjin grimaces. If he rejected the offer, he’d surely never hear the end of it from his father. So, reluctantly, he takes his hand, and lets the boy drag him away.

Seungmin smiles up at the prince and leads him to the center of the ballroom. They’d awkwardly shifted for the first few seconds in trying to gain a standing, having only ever had ballroom practice with the opposite sex. Thankfully, they eventually adjust to one another accordingly; one hand on Hyunjin’s back, one hand on Seungmin’s shoulder, and the last pair intertwined in a strong grasp (Hyunjin tries not to grab on _too_ tightly).

Seungmin’s gaze didn’t seem to hold any malice. Evidently, he seemed fidgety and nervous, very unlike himself. It was just like the last time they’d talked, and the way that Seungmin shrunk under Hyunjin’s gaze. This time, Hyunjin wasn’t trying to look very threatening, but the other day’s events made up for his kinder gaze this time around.

‘Why am I the girl?’ Hyunjin questions, following Seungmin’s lead.

‘Why must you conform to such sexist, stereotypical ideologies?’ Seungmin questions back, watching as the boy huffs and mumbles an _‘Am not.’_

Plus, he didn’t want to keep complaining. Taking on a different role for once felt quite nice, actually. Seungmin’s black robes conspicuously contrasted from Hyunjin’s red ones, but they complimented one another well.

Seungmin clears his throat, before starting again ‘I’m…sorry. Really. Genuinely,’

Hyunjin scoffs, almost yelping when Seungmin pulls him slightly closer, his hand wrapping more firmly into his waist ‘For what, exactly?’

‘Just. I don’t know, everything. I’m sorry for tripping that butler, I’m sorry for having a stick up my ass, and I’m sorry for trying to read your emotions unwarranted. It’s habit…but I shouldn’t have done it, either way.’

Hyunjin exhales sharply, certainly not having ever expected, in a million years, to hear an apology from the boy, nor to hear his, normally formal, speech dwindle. Then again, he's glad the boy had ditched formality, if for only this one time, as he's sure he would've sounded a lot less genuine ‘I don’t know if you’re lying to get good with my family,’ _an adamant shake of the head from Seungmin_ ‘but, if you are being sincere, I appreciate the apology. However, you still have someone else to direct a sincere apology to,’

Seungmin thought about it for a moment, head hazy from all the swaying and Hyunjin’s hand garnering a looser hold on his waist, as it was significantly tighter beforehand.

‘…you mean, the butler?’

‘ _His name is Chan_. Yes, he deserves an apology for what you did. He had to endure a lot of yelling and scolding because of your little act,’

‘I…of course. I’ll find him and apologize to him, I promise. I really am sorry. I understand if you aren’t willing to befriend me or anything, I wouldn’t either.’

Hyunjin furrows his eyebrows, feeling himself ease under Seungmin’s touch _just a bit_ , swinging more naturally with the swirling instrumentals of piano, violins, cellos, floating up into the air in a matched bravado ‘I just don’t understand, why do you act the way that you do, then? I doubt all it would’ve taken for you to change your ways is one measly confrontation. Did I scare you that much?’

Seungmin gulps ‘In a way, I’ve always known it was wrong. But isn’t that what we’re meant to do? All my life, I’ve just been mimicking my father’s teachings. I thought it was the right way to go about things, you know. Since he’s built such an empire on his own.’

Hyunjin hums, obstinately regarding the younger as he spoke. As little as he is willing to admit it, Seungmin really did have the most enchanting eyes. When he rambled ( ~~when he seemed like himself~~ ) they didn’t look snarky or sharp or annoying – as he usually saw them. They looked soft and pretty. He simply couldn’t help but stare at the glitter on his eyelids and the way it dazzled with every movement they made. In the heat of an established moment, it’s easy to dismiss everything around you, even when there were so many people there, Hyunjin’s focus stayed solely on the boy before him.

‘Word of advice?’

‘Yes, please?’

‘Your father didn’t build his empire by acting as he does now when he was younger, right? So, what’s the point in emulating his actions as they are now? Doesn’t sound right to me.’

Seungmin ponders over it for a few seconds, humming to himself, nose scrunching cutely in acute confusion and wonderment ‘Thank you.’

The two swayed about for a bit longer, neither eager enough to admit that they liked being in each other’s presence. The aggravating tension seems to shrink, but another kind of tension appears to arise and wedges itself between the moving bodies.

♚♔♚

‘And that?’

Seungmin squints up at the ceiling, once again ‘I believe that’s a Bunyip.’

Hyunjin couldn’t help but to burst into complete, unadulterated laughter, almost falling over as he repeats the name to himself ‘Bunyip!’

Seungmin shakes his head, but smiles nonetheless ‘You live here, and yet all you knew off of these was the mermaid and the werewolf?’ He said, referring to the carvings on the ceiling of the walkway they were sitting on the floor of, despite the chairs not too far from them. Hyunjin’s crown had long slid off of his head and now sat on his lap.

‘Ugh, because I read about them when I was a kid, how do you know all of these absurd names?’

‘I read.’

Hyunjin scoffs in disbelief ‘You would get along with my brother.’

‘Speaking of, where is Prince Minho? They said he left a while ago,’

Hyunjin’s eyebrows furrow in confusion ‘They did? I didn’t know that.’

Seungmin just shrugs, insinuating that he didn’t know much either.

It was weird. The two had actually sat down and had a healthy conversation. Hyunjin had eventually apologized as well, once he’d come to his senses, and witnessing Seungmin doubled over in a deep bow, apologizing to Chan with utmost formality. He’d responded by giving the two a plate of brownies – also known as one of the ‘forbidden treats’ that had been invented ahead of their timeline, thankfully, Jeongin had gotten a hold of the recipe and made it despite the warnings.

Seungmin was reluctant at first, but once he’d tried one of the tasty treats himself, he couldn’t help but give great compliments to the chef – to which Jeongin had just shrugged it off, munching on one of the treats himself.

‘Well, would you happen to know about that?’ Hyunjin asks, pointing to the door on the closed-off corner of the room. It was a metal door, an ominous but alluring blue glow emanated from the small crack at the bottom. Hyunjin, ever since he was little, had never been allowed in it.

Seungmin’s eyes almost bulge out of their sockets ‘Oh! That’s the door to the Blue Room! You’re telling me, even you don’t know what’s behind it?’

Hyunjin shakes his head, feeling his hair ruffle against the wall he’s leaning on, while Seungmin stares on at the strange metal door.

‘That door has been the greatest mystery of this palace for decades. Perhaps they’ll inform you of its contents when you’re king.’

At this, Hyunjin’s head perks up, and he finds himself staring at the door as well, feeling the same type of spell draw him into its shiny, cold surface ‘Interesting.’

It’s only then, when he turns his head back around, that Hyunjin notices that Seungmin’s been eyeing the crown on his lap, the golden beams of light bouncing off of its sleak gem-work. His gaze quickly averts elsewhere when he hears Hyunjin chuckle at him ‘Find something intriguing?’

‘No.’ The boy crosses his arms over his chest, frown etched over his features, while he locks his gaze further and further away.

‘You know, if you wanted to, you _could_ wear it.’

Seungmin looks shocked at this casual proclamation ‘What? Are you insane? That crown was crafted on these grounds by one of its first blacksmiths. It’s been worn by a line of royals that are collectively worth more than a hair on my h–,’

‘Seungmin,’ Hyunjin raises a hand to halt the boy’s lengthy argumentative speech ‘I’m a royal, and I’m giving you permission to wear it. So please, just take it while you can.’

Again, he hesitates, grimacing at the thought of abandoning morals. But then, his eyes catch the bright red gems on the crown’s crisp, carved surface, the chandelier’s candlelight casting its light over their tantalizing crimson.

So, he decidedly nods, watching as Hyunjin consciously smiles and sits up so he can properly place the crown onto the boy’s head as if it’s a coronation of sorts. As he does so, he smooths the boy’s brown strands down, barely registering how his cheeks pink and his serene reserve falters. In fact, he barely registers when he practically stares the boy down and muddles him into mush, further.

‘You look pretty.’

♚♔♚

Minho’s eyes rest on the younger boy before him. Maybe it was the wound in his arm, or the fairly good-looking boy in front of him, but his mind sure did feel hazy.

‘I’m really sorry, I’m not a professional,’ Jisung apologizes, working contentedly on wrapping up the wound in Minho’s arm.

Minho hums, sleepy stupor evident in the tilt of his head and the fluttering of his eyelashes whenever his lids begged to shut close ‘It’s alright. You might not be a professional, but you sure do know more about patching up wounds than I could’ve ever expected.’

‘I have experience. The kids at the orphanage, they got hurt a lot.’

‘Oh. If you don’t mind me asking, how did you end up out of there? They couldn’t have just let you go, right? You're still so...,' Minho pauses then, hyperaware of the fact that he'd likely overstepped multiple lines, and a sharp glare in the midst of his vision reminds him of that.

Jisung sighed ‘I ran away. Couldn’t handle it anymore.’

This was the quietest, most serious Minho had ever seen Jisung, so he decided to drop it before possibly making things worse.

‘Your cabin’s not that bad, you know.’ Minho notes, looking around at the quaint, wooden space.

‘Ha, sure. I’d expect any person on the street to turn their nose up at it, let alone a prince.’ Jisung chuckles, moving to grab more gauze.

‘No, I’m serious. I’d much rather live in a space like this, especially since it’s in the forest.’

Jisung sniggers, stretching out the last layer of gauze ‘Move in, then.’

‘Ok.’

Jisung almost chokes on his own spit, sputtering bit at the elder’s unexpected boldness ‘I was kidding!’

‘Whatever, squirrel. I’ll move in if I want to.’

‘I think you lost more blood than I thought, you’re starting to act up.’ Jisung shakes his head at the elder’s odd behavior.

Minho giggles, tilting his head to face Jisung’s directly, while said boy had been tentatively wrapping the last layer of gauze around the wound. Unfortunately, he’d looked up, and almost jumped out of his chair in fright at the extremely close proximity of their faces.

Jisung wasn’t stupid, he could see the prince gaze lowly at his lips for a few seconds, but his fright or flight instincts kick in and he quickly moves away after completely securing all the gauze he needs to.

‘Alright…I’m done.’

Minho tries to hide his disappointment, moving to pull his sleeve back down, quickly noting that he had to get the blood stain out before it gets to any of the servants or maids at the palace.

‘Squirrel?’

‘Hm?’

‘Hyunjin mentioned, the first time we met, something about your training? What was that all about?’ Minho feels bad for his unbending curiosity that day, perhaps his drowsy haze made it harder to obscure.

Jisung freezes, pondering over his thoughts for a bit before resuming his cleaning up ‘Well, I guess I might as well tell you. Hyunjin gives me lessons, sometimes. He calls it training, but I say otherwise. Anyways, it’s his way of getting me to stop stealing for a living, since it’s always been a dream of mine to join the Royal Guard, or at least be legible for the post. Of course, I doubt that’ll ever happen–,’

‘I can do that.’

‘W-what?’

‘I can train you. No offence to my little brother, but he isn’t exactly as well-versed in archery, swordsmanship, and hand to hand combat, as I am. From what I’ve seen thus far, you’re a very hardworking and passionate individual. I haven’t seen you wield a sword, but I already see your potential.’

Jisung pushes his hair back, running a palm over his face in worry.

‘I…,' Jisung sighs to himself. If he could barely handle the presence sat mere inches away from him, how could he possibly expect to do so in the midst of important training? Alas, he proves again, how easily he gives in to his weaknesses.

'Alright. When will we be starting then, kitten?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY BTW !! i forgot to mention: yes ofc i'm aware it wouldn't have been permitted, in any way, shape or form, for two men to openly ballroom dance in the 19th century. h o w e v e r, minho also would've been cast aside for being gay and i've decided to make our cute little universe slightly more progressive in that sense ! for the sake of minimal complications :D


	6. The Blue Room

_‘What’s gotten into you?’_

_‘I’m sorry.’_

_‘A meagre apology serves neither of us any purpose. I’m banning you from leaving the house until further notice.’_

_‘But, father–,’_

_‘I am not your father for as long as you are not an honorable son. I’ll hear nothing more of it.’_

Anyone that looked at Seungmin would guess that he was a carbon copy of his father. Authoritative, snarky, and business-oriented. Ironically, Seungmin wanted nothing more than to set himself apart from his father. He didn’t want to inherit anything solely because of bloodline, he wanted to earn it. His father did hold that mentality as well, which meant that the young boy’s childhood was filled with unattended birthday parties, strict business and etiquette lessons, and variants of abuse throughout, sprinkled in to further emphasize his father’s malevolence.

The dark ceiling of Seungmin’s bedroom never failed to direct his thoughts to go to places he wished they never did. Hyunjin’s voice rang through his ears to fill the deafening silence; one second he’d hear him insulting him, and then the next he’d hear his laughter. His wonderfully therapeutic laughter. Seungmin had never gotten to talk to someone so openly, ever since he’d become an only child.

Heaving himself off of his bed, Seungmin pondered over his actions for a second. When his dad sent him up to his room, it was to work. It was to work on what he’d been assigned to work on.

This time, he decided, he’d develop something of his own.

♚♔♚

‘Can you pass me that spoon?’

Hyunjin reaches over for the large utensil next to him, handing it to Jeongin so he could stir his stew. The young boy insists on preparing something for the kitchen staff and the palace workers that were still out and about, for they’d worked so hard that week.

It was two days since the Ceremony, and Hyunjin received no word from Minho, who appeared out of thin air just as guests were arriving, telling him that he was just ‘strolling around outside’.

‘Say, ah!’ Jeongin had brought up the spoon for Hyunjin to taste.

Hyunjin let the younger feed him the small bit of the stew, biting down onto a piece of meat along with the spiced broth, humming in satisfaction at the marvelous flavor profile that hit his taste buds.

‘I picked up a few things while I was away,’ Jeongin grins sleepily, rubbing at his eyes a bit.

‘Tired, little chef?’

Jeongin groans into his hands and raises his head a bit ‘My little brother wouldn’t sleep. I tried stories, talking for a bit, and even a lullaby, but nothing worked!’

Hyunjin pats Jeongin’s head, or, technically, his small chef hat ‘Heejin’s got too much energy, and it doesn’t help that you gave him so much sugar throughout the day.’

Jeongin waves a dismissive hand at the taller male, moving to replace the pot with a wok ‘Could you get me some more wood, please?’

Hyunjin mumbles a small ‘sure’, moving to get the wood at the back of the counter, listening to Jeongin ramble about how he’d seen the more modern inventions of gas and electric stoves while he was away, and how inconvenient wood stoves are in comparison.

‘Jeongin. Jeongin, listen!’ Hyunjin quickly motions the younger over, abruptly halting his short rambles, pointing over at the back door of the kitchen, where Chan had been conversing with a shorter girl, either of their eyes glimmering under the slice of sunshine splintering into view.

Hyunjin had seen her before, he vaguely remembers, for it would be quite hard to forget a face that glowed, no matter its surroundings, the swiftness of kinky hair that'd always been partially tied back by a navy blue ribbon littered with numerous stars. Her cheeks had blown red from spending long hours in the sun, but her smile that stretched out so seemlessly never let up. She seemed to be delivering something, as Chan quickly moved to grab the basket of items she’d been lugging about with her, thanking her for another personal delivery - clearly, it hadn't been completely necessary for her to make a complete venture to the kitchens, but that'd been the only way to get into contact with her secret admirer (although Hyunjin would not put it past Chan if they'd already somehow gotten together behind everyone's backs).

‘No, that’s fine, you weren’t a bother at all,’ Her sweet voice trails, its nectarine quality weaving into the air and sending Chan’s head into a tailspin, small giggles leaving his lips in a love-struck stupor.

‘Thanks for the company. I’ll see you again, tomorrow?’

‘Definitely.’

And with one final wave, she swiftly turns back away, her neat tresses swept by the wind as she does. Alas, Hyunjin and Jeongin's first sight over a flushed, dazed Chan had only lasted so long, when his grin quickly turns into a frown upon spotting them from within their terrible hiding spot, uttering disturbingly loud smacking sounds with their lips and giggling to themselves endlessly.

‘Channie’s in love~’

‘I almost threw up in my mouth, just now.’

Chan sighs. He’d never hear the end of it.

♚♔♚

The tea Jisung had prepared easily trails down his throat, coating it with warmth and leaving Hyunjin, surprisingly, satisfied as he finishes off with one last, soft exhale ‘Of course, I mean no offense, but I really didn’t expect this to taste so good!...You didn’t steal those tea leaves, did you?’

Jisung groans, shaking his head vehemently ‘No! I got the tea leaves from outside, Minho told me–,’

‘Minho?’

Jisung chuckles awkwardly, scratching at the back of his head ‘You know…we’ve talked…perhaps a few times, and we happened to be passing by a batch of tea leaves. He mentioned something about how I could use it to make green tea, but then he also mentioned that under certain conditions, it would make oolong–,’

‘Are you sure it _was_ just the one time?’ Hyunjin decides it's enough that he hasn't even mentioned how easily Jisung had dropped honorifics around the older, although it could've partially been pinned on 

‘Hm, yeah, what makes you think I’d be lying?’

Hyunjin raises a brow at the shorter boy ‘When you opened the door, you looked disappointed. Like perhaps…you were expecting someone else?’

Jisung opened his mouth to quickly retaliate but stops as Hyunjin raises a finger at him to show that he wasn’t done, having only paused to take a sip of his tea.

‘Plus, Minho disappeared two days ago, as I recall. And, I don’t buy his excuse, so I’m guessing he was actually here?’

At that point, there'd been virtually no point in retaliating, especially not when Jisung was horrible at disguising his body language and his face had been striken with an obvious shock that read 'how'd you know?'.

‘Ji, it’s ok! Honestly, I’m glad you’re establishing more friendships. I just didn’t understand why you'd both be so secretive about it. Anyways, that doesn’t matter now, I actually just came over to discuss details about our next training session.’

Jisung heaves out a heavy, guilt-induced sigh, his eyebrows furrowing into signature apology and a solemn part within his chest slightly dispirited over the fact that his and Hyunjin's training sessions would be no more.

‘Yeah…about that, Minho actually offered to take over.’

‘What? Really?!’

‘Yes, I’m sorry–,’

‘That’s great! I mean–, I intend no offense, but,' Funnily enough, that would've been the second time within the past 10 minutes that Hyunjin had uttered the very same phrase 'it was getting quite difficult to keep up with.’

Jisung gasps, feigning offence ‘And here I thought you’d be absolutely heartbroken.’

‘Stop being so dramatic! We’ll still see one another, which does remind me…,’

Jisung's curious stare only serves to further rattle the boy sitting before him into referring back to his doubts. ‘Remind you…?’

‘I…I know you’ll call me a hypocrite, but I need your help breaking into a special room at the palace.’

Despite the fact that Hyunjin had leaned in to whisper this, it seemed like Jisung’s wooden walls really were thin enough to allow any words excganged to be heard by an invasive guard, who'd been ‘manning’ the kitchen door ‘What?!’

The two jump at Changbin’s exclamation, and the sight of the short boy bursting through the door in all of his inflamed glory. Particularly Jisung, who had been scared that his weak door would give out at the harshness with which Changbin slammed it open.

‘Bin, please! It’s the Blue Room! I know that you’ve never seen it, either. Haven’t you ever been at least just a bit curious–,’

‘No, Hyunjin! We’re all under strict orders not to touch that room. Only a select group of people are allowed to know of its whereabouts, and that just happens to exclude us.’

‘But–,’

‘No!’

Ah yes, the Blue Room, one that had drawn particular infamy for its mysetrious, yet beguiling presence. One that's very existence had already been amongst greater controversy to those who'd never caught a glimpse of its threatening hold over its caretakers. The room, blocked by solid metal, that Hyunjin had spent years pondering over the enigma of; for it seemed to innately draw the attention of any that laid even the shortest of glimpses over its outcast glow.

Unfortunately, it didn't seem like Changbin shared much of the same sentiment, for while the two continued to bicker, Jisung had perked up at Hyunjin’s previous exclamation, quickly running past a confused Changbin to sift through the numerous papers on his study, finally sounding out an ‘Aha!’ when he found what he was looking for ‘Found it!’

‘Found what?’ Hyunjin and Changbin both exclaim at different levels of enthusiasm.

‘The map I used when I…uh,’

‘Hyunjin!’ Changbin exclaims, turning to said male.

‘Jisung!’ Hyunjin exclaims back, directing his frustrations at said male.

‘I– I used it when I…got into architecture,’

Changbin redirects his frustrations at the poor boy with the palace floor plans in his hands, tone laced with venom ‘Don’t even try it! You two couldn’t have made it more obvious that you were a _thief_.’

‘Changbin, please–,’

‘Look, I don’t care, ok? A man’s past is nobody's business but his, but whatever it is your planning now, I won’t allow it.’

A bout of silence had ensued, and Changbin tries his best to incessantly avoid Hyunjin’s eyes, which feel like they’re about to drill into his skull ‘Stop looking at me like that. Your Highness.’ 

‘Look, either way, we’re doing this. Whether you’d condone it or not.’

Changbin paused, watching as Jisung unraveled the palace floor plans and laid it out on the table ‘Fine!…but only if I tag along. _Not_ , for what you think! I know you imbeciles would do it either way, so I have to make sure you don’t end up doing something inhumanely idiotic.’

Hyunjin pats at his friend’s arm, causing Changbin to direct a sharp glare his general direction ‘Sure, Binnie.’

‘Hyunjin! Here, look,’ Jisung points to his map, at a spot that was completely devoid of anything. Hyunjin realizes, through the familiar floor pattern, that this would've been the Blue Room.

‘Seriously?! Even here, I can’t catch a glimpse of it?’ Hyunjin’s eyebrows furrowed, while Changbin’s attention had suddenly been drawn to the map as well.

‘Mhm, and here’s the weird part. It looks like it was actually drawn in, but somebody dissolved the ink for the floor plans on this room, only; can’t be a coincidence. _And, and!_ Look, there’s a little key drawn on the bottom right of this room, and I’ve found a couple of locks scattered over different parts of the palace. Th-they’re really small, so I kind of lost some of them–,’

‘Here!’ Hyunjin’s eyes scan the map meticulously until they land on the garden; just as Jisung described, a small lock drawn at the base of the central fountain. The three kept scavenging for other clues, but only managed to find one more. The only other one was drawn right behind where Hyunjin remembered the Qilin statue stood.

‘I could’ve sworn there was one more,’ Jisung mumbled, running his hand through his hair, receiving a small pat and a ‘Maybe a trick of the eye?’ from Hyunjin.

Seeing as it was just midday, the trio – or rather the duo and Changbin standing off to the side, glaring into the wall –, had decided to carry out the mission during the evening, giving themselves enough time to plan everything out. Despite Changbin’s groans of protest, Hyunjin and Jisung decided on a very efficient and sensible method of sneaking Jisung in: a barrel.

♚♔♚

Changbin’s fist ruthlessly knocks onto the hardwood of the barrel Jisung had been previously, _delicately_ placed in, causing said boy to let out an anguished groan.

‘That scared me! I almost hit my head against the roof of this thing!’

Changbin rolls his eyes in response, wrenching the barrel open with his sword. Jisung peers his head out, eyes mere inches away from Changbin’s pointed sword ‘Wow. This might be bad timing, but can I hold your sword?’

Changbin didn’t respond, lifting his sword to sheath it back into place. Hyunjin sighs, responding for him ‘Bin’s really protective over it, sorry Ji.’

Jisung shrugs, attempting to leap out of the tight, wooden space, but ended up tripping over it, and stumbling to the floor. The two other boys pay him no attention as he groans and mumbles incomprehensible comments to himself.

Changbin was weary, as was evident in the way his eyes filter across the room every time he heard anything, only to realize it was Jisung shuffling around and touching things he wasn’t supposed to.

‘Your Highness, your friend has two seconds to get his hands off of that sculpture, before I chop them off.’

‘W-why is he suddenly formal?’ Jisung questions, holding his hand to his chest.

‘Something to do with feeling authoritative when he’s within palace grounds, or something,’

Jisung sighs, bending down to retrieve his bag from the barrel, which he’d used it as a – very uncomfortable – pillow. Sifting through it for a few seconds, he’d finally found what he was looking for, a rusty screw. Quickly, he began working on finessing the lock, shoving his screw into the hole where a key would normally go, twisting it about.

‘That’s it?! This is your idea of ‘brilliant reinforcements’? Do you even know what that means?!’ Hyunjin exclaimed, peering down at the boy before him.

‘No, of course not! Look, you have to trust me, I’m an infamous vigilante!’

‘You used that word wrong too–,’

‘Stop.’ Changbin voices, gripping onto the hand that kept trying to wiggle a jagged screw into a metal door ‘I’m going to do it.’ He directs the last part to Hyunjin, whose eyes widen at the words.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Can I trust your friend?’

Hyunjin looks over at the very perplexed Jisung next to him ‘Ji, I need you to, _please_ , not freak out when you see what you’re about to see, ok?’

‘You’re scaring me,’ Jisung’s eyes sprints from Hyunjin, who gazes down at him with a familiar plead to Changbin, who’s looked away from the pair ‘but, ok, I promise.’

Changbin gulps, raising his palms together to generate a surge of red, electrical energy, maneuvering it with his fingers until it seep into the keyhole, and turn the lock around. Eventually, they hear a resounding click, and Changbin puts his hands down, hesitantly looking up at Jisung to gauge his reaction.

Surely enough, the young boy looks to be on the verge of either yelling, crying, fainting, or maybe all of the above ‘That…that was awesome! H-how – when,’

‘No questions.’ Changbin sneers, raising a hand to test out if the door would open now. Proving his abilities effective, it creaks open, the strange blue light that always emanated from underneath it now brighter than ever, and the three quickly edge their way in when the gap is wide enough.

‘Changbin’s powers…please, for his sake, don’t tell anyone about them. Only very few people know about them.’ Hyunjin whispers so only Jisung could hear, as Changbin lead the way inside, in case anyone happened to be in there. Jisung simply nods affirmatively.

The three toe their way through the stretch of the path before them, and for a while, Hyunjin wonders if they were ever going to get anywhere. Thankfully, they eventually find themselves turning a corner into a much larger space. The room was dark but seemed to be kept alive and alight still as the same blue glow radiated off of its walls. The ceiling and the walls were bright and intricate; painted a frosty blue and crisp white that branch out in wave-like patterns to form a central circle at the very top of the ceiling, where two, glowing koi fish – red and green – had been delicately drawn, size akin to that of a dolphin rather than a koi.

The ground beneath them was a stark, icy blue, but what was more peculiar was its dewiness, as if someone had just gone for a swim and laid out on it. The walls had also been graced by a trail of vinery that branches out the more they descend into the room. Eventually, they were led into an extended space where a wide, vast greenery obscures what looked to be a small body of water. The three boys had been rendered speechless at the sight before them.

‘This room,’ Jisung begins ‘it looks just like a spot in the forest by the palace, where I live. I’ve only ever been once, but it looks exactly the same.’

Jisung was right. The greenery was kept aglow from a strange luminosity that emanated from it, as if the fireflies were hiding within them rather than gripping onto trees and branches like they did in Silva Pacis. What was most strange and otherworldly was the radiancy and unnatural hue of the body of water. It looked small, but Hyunjin guessed that it had great depth, as he couldn’t spot any rocks or sediments beneath it.

‘Have you ever seen this, Sung?’ Hyunjin asks, bending down to examine a tall flower that grew right by the small lake. It looked to be transparent, akin to a glass, lotus flower, its pollen glowing the same way all of the plants around them did.

‘No…I’ve never seen anything like it.’ Jisung bends down as well, examining the beautiful flowering plant. Hyunjin palms the petals, and watches as it suddenly shifts to red. The pair awe at the sudden appearance of color, but just as Hyunjin lets go, it goes back to its colorless, transparent state.

Changbin had been questioning everything he’d ever learned and been told at that moment. He was nothing short of a mess, bending down to stare down at the still water, feeling his racing heart begin to slow down from the mere serenity and calmness of its slowly undulating surface.

‘I don’t understand this. All of this. None of it makes sense. I was told that this room was sacred and that, one day, I’d have the _very_ important task of guarding it. And this is all it is? A lake and some plants? Did they want me to come by and water them or something?’

Hyunjin crawls over to his friend and slowly removes the hands that had been profusely grappling at his hair ‘That’s what we’re here for. The keys, the lock, they have to mean something. They have to be hiding something important here, right? And if I can find out, if we can find out, maybe I’ll find out what they’ve been hiding from us.’

‘What they’ve been hiding? Hyunjin, some things just have to be kept hidden away, don’t you understand? I should’ve never brought you here, this is my fault.’

‘Changbin, no–,’

‘GUYS!’ Jisung abruptly shrieks, moving away from the lake at great speed ‘I-I saw something move! In the water, there’s something in the water! It had a huge tail!’

The pair stand up with him, and Changbin moves to wield his sword, moving to stand in front of Hyunjin and telling the two behind him to move away in case anything jumped out at them. For a few seconds, the trio just stood there, awaiting the worst, but were met with nothing but still water, nothing but a mere ripple in its movements.

‘Ji, maybe you just imagined– HOLY SHIT!,’

A huge splash resounds from the water, all stillness gone, and out pops a head…a human head. Jisung and Hyunjin’s yelling seem to scare them, as they immediately duck their head down in fear, almost completely obscuring themselves from view.

Changbin puts his sword back in, eyes wide in deep wonderment ‘I’m sorry, we didn’t mean to startle you,’ It was only then, did the other two notice the tail that trailed behind the boy in the water; a merman.

The merman peeks his head out slowly, and then eventually, completely reveals himself. He was beautifully enchanting; it was clear and evident from his features alone that he wasn’t human. His hair fell into delicate blue tresses, smoothed back a bit from the water, but barely wet, other than the few droplets that fell off of them and onto his shoulders – perhaps attributed to strange merperson physiology. The sides of his head were devoid of hair, and instead, seemed to be stemming flowers of their own. Just as everything else in the room, they glowed and sparkled brightly. The skin on his collarbones, shoulders, and ears, also glittered in the blue light, and his face was dotted with an abundance of freckles, trailing from his cheeks, to his nose, to his eyelids. The man was nothing short of breathtaking.

‘Maybe he doesn’t speak english.’ Jisung whispers, still hiding behind Hyunjin’s tall figure, who was quick to shush him.

‘It’s ok,’ the merman quips, quiet as a mouse ‘who are you?’

Changbin almost forgets to respond, having been drawn into the merman’s wide, alluring gaze ‘My name is Changbin, this is Hyunjin and…Jison?’

‘Jisung.’ The mentioned practically hisses, suddenly stepping away from where he was hiding behind Hyunjin, who had muffled his laughter into his palm.

‘Right. What’s your name?’ Changbin questions the enticing merman.

‘Felix.’ He answers back, voice still hesitant and scraggly. Although somehow, it only places more emphasis on its deep, velvety tone.

Changbin smiles ‘It’s nice to meet you, Felix.’

Hyunjin and Jisung murmur in agreement, still at awe at the prospect of being in front of a real merman, the existence of which was still debated among their communities.

Felix smiles back, but then, almost as quick as it came, it had disappeared ‘But…I don’t understand, are you here for my magic? I thought I wouldn’t have to do that for a few more days.’

‘Magic?’ Changbin voices the trio’s thoughts.

‘Mhm,’ Felix sounds, taking his hands out of the water, which glides off of his hand almost unnaturally. He demonstrates, grabbing an unexpecting Changbin’s hand, and seeping the small water droplets off of it, forming a ball with it, and then gradually using his fingertips to set it aglow. And then, he’d dropped it, causing the water droplets to simply evaporate into the air and the strange glow to completely disappear.

‘Felix?’

‘Hm?’

‘The people that come by here, the guards; do they ask for you to do that?’

‘Yeah! They ask me to do that, and then store the water in a jar. I don’t know what for, but they say it’s important.’ Felix exclaims, seeming a bit more enthusiastic now ‘Aren’t you a guard too?’

‘Yes, I am. But, I’m not quite like those guards.’

‘Clearly! They never respond when I try to make conversation! I just want to make friends out of the water, but they never want to talk.’ Felix rambles, pouting and swishing his tail around to maintain balance.

Hyunjin and Jisung were back to crouching by Felix’s lake by now, both boys too reluctant to speak still, until Jisung couldn’t let his curiosities linger for much longer.

‘Hey, Felix,’

‘Hey…Jison, right?’

‘Jisung.’ Although starting bitterly, he continues in a lighter tone ‘If you don't mind my asking. Do you happen to know anything about this flower?’

‘Oh!’ Felix swims over so he was directly facing Jisung and the strange flower ‘This is a Lotus Modus! Weird name, I know, but it’s very beautiful. It only blooms around one time of year, which happens to be now! And, the fun part is that it glows a particular color based on the beholders mood!’

Hyunjin grew curious now ‘What does red mean?’

‘Hm, it could mean few different things. There’s love, warmth, excitement, intensity.’

‘Aww, Jinnie, does that mean you’re in love with me?’ Jisung quips, exaggerating his actions.

‘Shut up, Han.’


	7. Lessons

A sharp knock sounds from Hyunjin’s doors, and he has half a mind not to escape through the window, wondering if it was time for him to make his Great Princely Escape. Unfortunately, as he comes to realize, he has to eventually rip himself off of his silken sheets, further reaffirmed when a voice behind the doors sounds out:

‘Your highness! Your new tutor has just arrived, and your father expects you to be at the study before he’s taken up there first.’

Hyunjin groans into his hands, stretching out his sore limbs, still feeling the ache of his muscles after the day’s earlier lessons. After having started them back up again, as per request of his father, he’d been up from the morning for daily classes. First was cardio-based training, then were his normal activities (swordsmanship, horse-riding, archery…) as a way of ensuring that he eases back into them again after months of being off of them. Now that he was done, he’d be expected to take a theory-based lesson, and he was, to say the very least, as dispirited about it as he possibly could be.

Only a mere week had passed by since the trio first met Felix the Merman, and much to the dismay of Jisung, they weren’t able to decode anything or uncover anything else. Without Changbin, they wouldn’t be able to sneak their way into his enclosure again, and the young guard seemed to be either too preoccupied or was deliberately trying to ignore the pair from commencing with their missions.

Finally opening his door, Hyunjin was met with the dormant face of one of his servants, Mr. Kwon, who looked passive, but was probably stressing himself over the fact that Hyunjin was taking so long to comply ‘Your Highness! There you are. I’ll be escorting you to the study, Mr. Kim will be meeting you there soon.’

‘Mr. Kim?’

‘Hm, yes. Your tutor, Kim Seungmin of the honorable Kim family.’

‘Pardon? Kim Seungmin? But he’s hardly younger than me!’

‘Yes, well, your father thought it would be best to give you someone around your age. His knowledge and expertise is quite profound, you’ll learn lots from him, don’t you worry,’

Hyunjin stayed quiet after that, walking along the rest of the path silently. He knew the real reason; it couldn’t be more obvious the way that his father had been trying to make as good as possible with the Kim family. They’d relieve him of a lot of trouble when it came to event planning and palace refurbishments, so it truly wasn’t a surprise to learn that his father had decided to get Seungmin to tutor Hyunjin.

Stopping at the familiar grand doors of the study, where Hyunjin got all of his theory-based lessons from precisely picked, scholarly tutors and teachers. It was in this very room that he’d learned his French, English, and Latin. It was also in this room that he’d been taught of the fundamentals and importance of garnering power; of course, naturally, this was when he was only 11. The room held a sort of bittersweet air. Even now, as he walked through the doors to sit at the designated table, he didn’t know how to feel about the idea of being in a room alone with the boy – save for the pair of guards that were on standby right outside of the room –, nor did he feel like he really understood the boy yet.

As far as he was aware, he didn’t hate the male, but he couldn’t say they were exactly buddy-buddy just yet, or if they ever would be. It just felt like, no matter what, they’d always be too different to get along. Even after their moment of bonding during the ceremony, Seungmin had turned formal and stoic again by the end of the night, as if some kind of switch had been turned on within the confines of his wired mind.

Alas, Hyunjin doesn’t have much time to dwell on his thoughts when he hears the familiar voice of Seungmin’s father just within ear shot. He can’t properly make out the words, but he assumes he’s just there to bid his son goodbye. That is, until he catches sight of the doors creaking open and the unmistakable figure of his father walking alongside Seungmin’s, heading off somewhere, armed guards trailing behind them.

Seungmin’s figure finally makes itself known as he makes his way in through the doorway, the guards closing the doors behind him as they were obligated to, so as to give Hyunjin’s qualified tutors a free space to bestow their knowledge efficiently. Although, at the moment, Hyunjin couldn’t really see how Seungmin was qualified and trustworthy enough, when he was only 18 years old. Seungmin seemed to sense this through Hyunjin’s prominent, subconscious glowering.

Seungmin’s appearance looked quite different from the last few times Hyunjin had seen him; he was clad in a light brown sweater vest, a quaint black bow tie, tied around the collar of his perfectly buttoned up, cream colored shirt, paired with comfortable yet fitted black slacks to finalize his smart-casual attire. As expected, he was still maintaining the clean, proper image he so desperately wanted to uphold.

‘Good afternoon, Your Highness. Shall we start?’ He begins, seating himself directly in front of Hyunjin and placing his satchel down so he could take out all of his prepared items.

‘I have a few questions to ask first.’ Hyunjin challenges, essentially winding up a storm with nothing but a sharp gaze and a bitter tone.

‘You may ask after I introduce the course. You’ll likely receive your answers through that.’ Seungmin disputes back, seemingly unfazed by the sharp glare directed his way, before grinning smartly and beginning, sheets of prepared parchments and books stacked in front of him

‘For the next few weeks, I’ll be giving you lessons on Trading and Commerce every Saturday, at this time. Each session will go on for about two hours, inclusive of breaks,’

Hyunjin groaned, rolling his eyes so far back they’d probably get stuck, but Seungmin continued, nevertheless. ‘I’ve planned each lesson succinctly, so I ask that you cooperate to the best of your abilities for both of our sakes. Plus, I imagine you’ll want to ask about my viability as your tutor due to my age. I’ll assure you that my going over the basics of what I’ve built most of my life on shouldn’t be an issue. I am well-versed in everything I’ll be discussing with you for the next few weeks. And don’t worry, I won’t be assigning any work outside of class.’

Hyunjin let out a sigh he’d been holding in for every word that left Seungmin’s mouth, whose tone suggested he didn’t hold the greatest gratification towards the situation, either, leading him to believe that he was probably asked to do this by his father.

Any ounce of sympathy Hyunjin might’ve felt for the younger boy was immediately dissipated when he flinched at the sound of hardcover hitting the spot on the desk in front of him ‘These are the books we’ll be using. They’re ones that I learned and read a lot from as a child, so I assume it’ll fit your level of intellect well.’

♚♔♚

An hour had passed since Hyunjin had first watched as Seungmin plopped a heavy, worn, hard-back in front of him and infuriatingly corrected his niche pronunciations. Seungmin had finally decided to reward Hyunjin with a short break, after he’d been regularly requesting one every 5 minutes or so.

He hated to admit it, but Hyunjin much preferred nagging at Seungmin or listening to him when he felt like it – which was generally how the one hour was spent –, over being around most of the tutors he’d been assigned over the many years he’d spent drifting away in this stuffy room. He could name only one that was remotely good and beneficial, and he’d unfortunately have to add Seungmin to the short list, as the boy just had to be irritatingly good at what he did.

Normally, during assigned breaks, Hyunjin would be told to complete ‘independent work’ or ‘self-study’, but Seungmin seemed to find this odd himself. ‘No, Hyunjin, the whole point of a break is to allow your mind to rest so it can properly grasp the new information. You can leave if you’d like, but please come back at the designated time.’

Hyunjin isn’t sure why, but the epiphany that reaches his chest only lasts shortly before he quips, surprising himself: ‘Actually…I think I’ll stay here.’

‘Oh,’ Seungmin looks up at that, relatively surprised that Hyunjin wouldn’t choose to relax his limbs or escape his presence while he had the chance ‘alright then, if that’s what you’d prefer

The young boy had already pulled a thick, hardy book from out of his back, its cover a dusky blue, littered with white and yellow constellations and taken to reading it, indulging in small, spaced out, sips of tea that had been provided by a palace servant earlier.

For some, incomprehensible reason, Hyunjin had frozen for the first full minute of his break, which was quite foolish for someone that should’ve been savoring every second that passed. Once he’s registered that he’d really just been staring into Seungmin’s obscured face, he quickly snaps out of whatever fog rendered him motionless.

As quickly as he’d been hazed, Hyunjin attempts to direct his attention to their surroundings instead. It had already felt like a different aura had established itself within the four, pristine walls that surrounded them, and he found himself developing an admiration for the browns and muted hues the room was splayed in.

It’s hard to pin-point exactly what could’ve made his thought process shift from one of a general uncaringness to a general admiration for its niche aesthetic and careful structure. Perhaps it was what Seungmin had declared, somewhere within the half-point of that one hour.

‘ _I really do enjoy this particular room’s architecture and design a lot more than many of the other ones in this palace,’ He’d stated, seemingly out of nowhere, his eyes recording every bit of the room they could, all of its traces, all of its nooks, crannies._

_‘I mean no disrespect to the other rooms in this palace, I just seem to gravitate towards this one.’_

_‘Because it’s filled with books?’ Hyunjin smarmily replies, expecting to hear another comment about his assumedly low intellect from Seungmin, only to receive nothing of the sort._

_‘Partially so,’ Seungmin mumbles, head still titled while he laid a wandering gaze over one of the large historical paintings hung over shelves of numerous books, most of which Hyunjin was sure hadn’t been lifted out of place in decades ‘I think it’s because it evokes so much calmer. I’d think if I resided in such a busy palace, if most of the colors surrounding me were always so bold, so loud, so pressurizing, so grand, I wouldn’t feel that same calm.’_

Hyunjin remembers those words as his eyes trace over the room’s smallest nooks, most discrete crannies, too. Upon large exhale, he feels a calm overtake him as the smell of jasmine tea wafts into his senses, mixing in with the scent of parchment, hardbacks, ink.

It may have only been their first lesson, but Hyunjin already feels as if this particular mix of scents was so, very, Seungmin.

♚♔♚

Minho tries to ignore the feeling of the patch on his arm shifting a tad and biting into the still-healing wound carved into his skin, managing to raise his arm up to draw the string of his bow, standing idle for a moment while he blinks one eye shut, adjusting his eye-to-target coordination. Finally, he draws the arrow further back, and releases it. In the time it takes for his eye to blink back open, it pierces through the small board they’d pinned onto a large tree trunk and hits mere centimeters away from the bullseye.

‘H-how do you do that? I’ve gotten nowhere close to that and you’ve hit the middle almost every single time–,’ Jisung finds himself gasping in untethered awe, once again, while he watches from the sidelines.

‘Come over here,’ Minho cuts the boy off, pulling him to the side and placing his bow into the other’s arms ‘I’ve been taking archery lessons for as long as I can remember. You’ve just begun, you can’t expect to be amazing at it immediately.’

Minho positions himself so he’s standing just behind the shorter male, grabbing an arrow from the pack and gently guiding Jisung’s hands so that they’re able to stretch the bow out properly. Jisung feels nothing short of an unseeing panic rise up his arm at the same rate Minho’s hand trail over it, to where he could position it the correct way. His other hand helps guide the hand wrapped around the bow. And although it’s just for practice, Jisung relishes in that he could technically say he’d held hands with the Prince of Terragloria.

Despite all of the crimes he’d committed over his short lifetime, Jisung still finds himself sending silent prayers to the sky in hopes that he wouldn’t embarrass himself to great lengths, and that Minho couldn’t feel the boy’s comically racing heart practically beating out of his chest and ringing through his ears.

As if he hadn’t done quite enough, Minho slowly edges close enough until he can mutter, right by Jisung’s ear:

‘Remember, Squirrel. Clarity and fluidity. Block out all your other senses, and everything around you. Just focus on the target, pause for a few seconds, breathe, and then release.’

Then, Minho’s arms slowly slide off, and Jisung tried his best to maintain his position, feeling the elder male further assist him so that his hand was right up to the corner of his mouth. Finally, after a few moments of dead silence and pure concentration, Jisung shoots. Miraculously, the arrow lands right onto the second smallest circle on the board and Jisung whoops in joy.

‘I did it! I did it! That’s my best one so far!’

Minho smiles warmly at the boy, uncaring for the fact that his jumping around and whoops of joy scare some nearby ravens away. He’d been caught completely off guard, however, when he felt himself almost get knocked over at the force with which Jisung threw his arms around him, wounding them around his neck as tight as was possible without accidentally cutting circulation off, his excited laughter muffled into his hair.

Minho just manages to break out of a trance, reciprocating the hug by wrapping his arms around the younger gently and giving his head a few mellow pats, as if he were scared he’d hurt him ‘Good job, squirrel.’

Decidedly, Minho eventually has to rip himself away from Jisung, rumbling an excuse about continuing to train before it hit dark. Jisung, in the midst of feeling embarrassed for possibly stepping too far over a certain line, simply nods and attempts to swallow whatever lump had made itself present in his throat from whenever his excitement had worn off enough to realize that he’d practically jumped into his instructor’s arms.

All of that did not matter at all, as, for now: It was time for swordsmanship training.

♚♔♚

Somehow, and he isn’t entirely sure of it, Jisung finds himself on the ground, _yet again_. Maybe it’s just him, but he’d entirely expected someone with an apparent injury to falter the slightest bit, especially when their injury resided in, what he assumed, was his dominant hand.

_‘I can yield with both hands,’ He’d explained ‘plus, I didn’t think to go easy on you, I genuinely thought my injury would hold me far back enough for us to be on equal footing.’_

He was wrong. Even that hadn’t been enough.

Even till now, an entire two hours later, when Jisung had denied Minho’s outstretched arm and opted to shamefully lift himself up ‘I don’t remember losing nearly _this_ much with Hyunjin.’

‘Perhaps it’s just that you can’t help but repeatedly fall for me?’ Minho questions, smarm fortified within his tone.

Jisung laughs mockingly, feigning annoyance, but he knows deep down that the prince actually presents a valid point. It might just be why, every time he’s too close, and Jisung has clear view of his concentrative stare, he loses footing easily and lets himself be drawn away in a moment of lost focus. Or, perhaps, why, whenever he attempted to step a ways away in what he proclaimed the ‘Victory Footwork’ that always worked to catch Hyunjin off-guard, he’d feel himself stumble instead.

_‘That’s not really smart, it’s better to skip fancy footwork, just try to stay as well-balanced and light on your feet, that’s all that matters.’_

Oh. Never mind that, then. The former point still seemed to hold up pretty well.

‘Jisung, I truly just think you need to go over certain basics again,’ Minho proclaims, ‘we’ve been doing test runs for some time now and I’ve spotted a lot of common mistakes, so it’ll be best to take that route.’

‘What if, instead,’ Jisung suggests, although he knows it’s incredibly foolish to do so ‘we go again, but this time you point out my mistakes directly, so I can try to refurbish my moves while we’re still fighting?’

Minho wants nothing more than to deny the request, seeing as it would likely just continue to hinder the boy’s learning, but then again, it wasn’t very easy to deny a small squirrel of what it wanted when it stared up at you with wide, brighter than bright, eyes, and a pout that somehow softened whatever solid layer you’ve attempted to wrap over your heart in favor of staying professional.

_You have to say yes._

And so, that’s what lands them where they are now, Minho’s still-determined eyes piercing back into Jisung’s. This time, he stays focused, and attempts, to the best of his abilities, to push against Minho whenever he looked like he’d been ready to strike again. He predicts his timing and his movements perfectly, but…

‘Don’t push,’ Minho explains, easily drawing his own sword over Jisung’s and promptly side-stepping to switch the angle of his aim ‘snap your arm forward quickly, succinctly, and with confidence. Don’t push, and don’t hesitate, or your opponent will gain the upper hand.’

Jisung grunts, wincing upon hearing metal-on-metal scraping, but quickly regains his footing, pretending to step back but swiftly changing pace to switch angles, watching with an earned satisfaction as Minho falters, his grip loosening slightly, and he follows his instructions, swinging his arm forward with a determinative flare.

Jisung’s confidence thickens and he feels his blood pressure rise with an inexplicable enthusiasm. They continue to quarrel, their precious blades scraping against one other with a swift consistence that Jisung is afraid they’ll somehow burst into flames. Still, his eyes pierce back into Minho’s, and he even manages to bite back any bright grins whenever he compliments him.

‘Good use of your surroundings!’ He huffs out, rather enthusiastically, despite the fact that Jisung had just cut through some vinery they’d passed by and distracted Minho long enough to direct a downwards swipe at his feet. Unfortunately for him, Minho still manages to parry it.

Even so, the compliment does work on continuing to feed his thrill.

‘You know,’ Minho manages to heave out between slashes, almost chuckling when Jisung attempts an overhead strike, but falters in his stance ‘sword fighting’s sort of like a dance.’

‘A dance?’ Jisung’s own voice is considerably more staggered and patchier, but considering who he’s quarreling, he still gives himself a pat on the back for lasting as long as he has.

‘Yes. Have you never danced, Squirrel?’ Minho wiles, hoping he’ll somehow receive the upper hand and divert the boy’s attention. Surprisingly, he doesn’t falter, swings his sword up again in the same overhead motion, and steps to the side with a grace and a swift that clearly catches Minho off guard.

Jisung seizes the opportunity, now, to twist his sword in his wrist to drop his attack rather than counter Minho’s, and with a brutal force, swipes at his feet so as to – successfully – trip the boy. Unwaveringly, he swipes at Minho’s sword, where he’d already loosened his grip, and brandished either sword in his hands, grinning down at Minho’s expression of astonishment.

Finally, his determinative stare is replaced by a knowing grin and a whispered ‘I can’t say that I ever have, Kitten.’


	8. A dance, my Prince?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mentions/allusions of childhood abuse

‘Profit?’

‘The change in the value of net assets in two consecutive fiscal periods.’

‘Good! Now, what was one of the main differences established in typical business management during the late 19th century corporate revolution; or, our century, as we know it.’

‘Hm…they implemented hierarchical structures.’

‘Good. Try elaborating?’

‘The structures themselves were reliant on central coordination, and departments were established for specific things, like purchasing, or accounting.’

‘Very good!’ Seungmin celebrated, patting a beaming Hyunjin on the shoulder encouragingly ‘Now that we’ve covered most areas of value from this book, I’d say it’s time for us to start on a new one.’

Seungmin and Hyunjin had been on a good role for the past few sessions, having quickly adapted to each other and the environment they’d collectively inaugurated. Hyunjin feels as if the room and its value had completely shifted from one stifled with anguish and distress to one of safety and welfare, and he’d even asked – to the surprise of _everyone_ – to replace another class on Monday and one on Wednesday with Seungmin’s lessons.

‘Already?’

‘Please don’t make a fuss of it, it’s just a thought for now,’ Seungmin leans forward as he mutters his words, frightening Hyunjin a tad for the seriousness in his tone ‘for the next few sessions, I wanted to go over a different book. This time, it’s a book…from _outside_ ’

Hyunjin would be embarrassed to admit, although he’d tried to tune in on whatever it was that had Seungmin sounding so tense, he hadn’t quite picked up his words entirely. For, out of his own control, his senses are too intent on centering on the boy’s wide, wary eyes, where one of his caramel strands had fallen out of its neatly-adjusted place.

By the time he realizes Seungmin had stopped talking, he feels a sheer panic rise before he hopes that he could make something of the small fragments of his sentence that he’d heard.

‘Huh–, you want to go outside?’

‘What? No, I wasn’t implying that! I just mean, there’s a lot that can be learned and understood from it. This book, I managed to find it based on pure luck, but it’s helped me expand on my knowledge so much more! Which, should be a given, seeing as it’s from the 1950’s and all.’ Seungmin brandishes the very book he’d been referring to, running a hand over its cover, and subconsciously grinning as if it’s his most precious item – it is.

Thankfully, Hyunjin’s brain screws begin to re-assemble themselves, and he finally concludes what Seungmin might’ve been getting at ‘Hold on. Does your father know about this? I can’t imagine any of them being alright with the prospect of us “going ahead of our times”, right?’

‘Right…he doesn’t know about it, and he likely never will.’

‘But,’ Hyunjin shakes his head in confliction, attempting to grasp at straws ‘I don’t understand, why would your dad put you up to this, if he isn’t even going to decide what material I should study, then?’

‘Hyunjin, my father didn’t put me up to this.’ Seungmin frowns, a glint of pink painting his cheeks, much to his dismay ‘I asked him to do this.’

Hyunjin is absolutely flabbergasted, to say the very least. From their very first session together, he’d assumed it was obvious, based on both of their attitudes, that neither of them were on board with the whole ‘tutoring’ premise. It was exactly that ‘shared devastation’ that held Hyunjin back from completely tarnishing whatever amount of time the lessons took up.

Then again, did any of that even truly matter, when Hyunjin could at least admit to himself that he didn’t entirely hate these sessions – he also thinks it would be hypocritical to feel angry or anything parallel to it, seeing as Seungmin still doesn’t know that he was the one to request extra lessons, and not the King.

‘Why?’ Is the question Hyunjin ends up drawing out after a prolonged silence, his voice quiet, yet attentive.

‘Because,’ Seungmin hesitates initially, there seems to be something in Hyunjin’s sincere gaze that encourages him to admit to the entire truth ‘he would have been the one to teach you instead. He was assigned as your next tutor, not me. But, I– well I…didn’t think you would’ve liked his teaching style. I knew it wasn’t exactly my place, but I took the risk because,’

A heavy pause ensues. Then, Seungmin’s watery gaze and downturned eyebrows are facing Hyunjin’s own astonished puzzlement, again.

‘because he would’ve hurt you.’

‘I don’t understand, what are you insinuating?’ Despite the question, Hyunjin thinks he knows all too well what’s being hinted at.

‘I think you know.’ Seungmin’s façade breaks then, even further than it had, the night of the ceremony, even further than it had the day he’d been confronted by Hyunjin. He feels an all too familiar pain press down, over his chest, and through the seemingly intact skin and bones shielding it from harm. The air doesn’t feel so comforting anymore, and Seungmin’s collar feels significantly more restricting than it did some time ago.

Seungmin knew what was to come, and it scared him. _Maybe he shouldn’t have spoken, maybe he should’ve kept his mouth shut._

Hyunjin knows. He knows, and he’d probably laugh, he’d probably point, he’d probably degrade him just as Seungmin would’ve been accustomed to.

Instead, as Seungmin feels a sort of dam shatter, unleashing his past woes, openly projecting his pain to someone he’d have never expected to allow himself the potential to be vulnerable for, Hyunjin does not laugh.

On the contrary, while Seungmin feels a deluge of tears that read years of pain, grief, and _so much_ resentment douse his face, bleeding into whatever image he could’ve upheld for himself, he feels someone take him into their arms, feels their firm, earnest grasp, feels them gently lay a hand over his head, letting him sob out his pent-up frustrations against their expensive robes.

And Seungmin lets him. Seungmin doesn’t flinch. Even though Seungmin can barely recall the last time he’d received a sincere hug, out of the eyes of wanderers, out of their prying, judging eyes.

It’s not a sentiment that feels as familiar as he’d like it to. But even then, he lets Hyunjin sway him, he lets himself feel vulnerable.

♚♔♚

Minho can’t help but glue his eyes over every possible fissure they can get to, of the area surrounding them, intent on scanning the familiar little shops and the day-to-day activities of its townspeople. He and Hyunjin are riding down the cleared streetways on their trusty steeds, two of the King’s guards trailing behind them, as menacingly as ever – despite Minho politely requesting that they ease their act a bit, seeing as innocent people and children were wandering the streets around them.

‘Wow, it really hasn’t changed all that much, has it?’

The marketplaces the two would’ve run past as kids, uncaring of status or positions, chatting with vendors and playing with the children living in the area, still stood tall. Changbin had been one such child, and the pair of princes remember feeling ecstatic upon learning of the news that the boy had been adopted by the King’s main guard, which was, essentially, what secured him such a high-ranking position amongst the Royal Guard.

 _That_ and a lot of hard work, Changbin would never let them forget that.

Nothing had changed. And Minho found himself greatly relieved that, at least that, had been left untainted.

‘Hello? Earth to Hyunjin?’ Minho eventually turns to said boy, noticing that he’d barely uttered a word after they left the palace.

‘Hm? Yes, nothing’s changed.’ Hyunjin replies dazedly, speedily turning back to face the front monotonously. This alone was strange, as Hyunjin had always made a point of writing about the highlight of his month being these quick treks around town, greeting its people, cooing at children that asked if they could touch his crown, offering to pay for passers-by that looked like they needed it. Along with Minho, said townspeople seemed to notice Hyunjin’s shift in behavior, as they’d visibly brightened at his appearance, and then slumped when he didn’t turn to greet them.

‘Ferret, what’s wrong?’ Minho presses, eyes completely set on the boy now, whose gaze remained glued to the front – or, really, nowhere. Minho was sure the boy was watching a play in his head, or something.

‘I don’t know,’ Hyunjin eventually admits, shrugging mindlessly ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘Does it have anything to do with the _merman situation_?’

A while ago, Hyunjin eventually broke and gave up their secret, after weeks of hearing Jisung beg him to do so, since he couldn’t bear lying to him for any longer. They’d told him everything, from the contents of the map, the keys, the lock, and of course, the merman cooped up behind a metal door. Minho didn’t seem completely unfazed, but his quick dismissiveness at the fact that there was a merman in the palace was quite confounding ~~and very suspicious~~.

‘No. It’s something that happened today. Don’t worry about it, I just. I need some time to my thoughts, if that’s alright.’

Minho gets the gist, mumbling out an ‘Of course.’ And leaving Hyunjin to his wandering thoughts and possible daydreams. Ever since they were kids, whenever Hyunjin would’ve felt himself placed under deep thought, or whenever he’d been asked a question that required extensive pondering, he’d ask that Minho kept as quiet as possible. After all, he could only let himself think when in silence.

Almost immediately, and to Hyunjin’s benefit – sort of – Minho’s attention is drawn elsewhere, and he feels himself taking more than a few glances in the same spot ahead to truly ground his suspicions.

It was Han Jisung. He looked to be negotiating something with an elderly vendor who looked uninterested in whatever Jisung was blabbering about to him.

Minho purses his lips, feeling his mind start to concoct a full-proof plan already. Truthfully, it’s not that grand, and all he needs to do is call out that he wanted to stretch his legs out and walk over solid ground for some time, adding in that the horses needed to rest – which they did, so Minho _was_ killing two birds with one stone.

At initiation of his _amazing_ plan, Minho attempts to look as nonchalant as possible, as the pair of princes stop at a stable and jump off of their tired horses. Hyunjin wouldn’t have caught onto said plan, if it weren’t for the fact that Minho was not nonchalant at all and kept glancing over into the same direction, and the younger prince could clearly identify who had caught his interest from where they’re standing.

Hyunjin wants nothing more than to slap some sense into both him and Jisung’s heads; because, according to the two, there was nothing going on. From the minute glimpses of their mysterious relationship that Hyunjin had seen, it was hard to tell whether they were simply lying to him, or they truly _were_ that idiotic.

‘What are you planning, imbecile?’

Minho only shushes him, shoving the boy to the side as if he’d be relaying a top-secret mission to him, and he points over to the guards that were _supposed_ to be manning them, but instead, got distracted by the small vendor selling cheap, splendidly scented, warm food.

Minho just knew that they wouldn’t be able to resist, seeing as they probably wouldn’t have eaten for a while.

‘Would an imbecile lead those two to the perfect trap? They’ll be distracted just long enough for Jisung and I to, uh,’ Minho pretends like he’s pausing to coo at his horse, who’s head is buried in a bucket of water, running his hand through her silky hair, before finishing his sentence ‘to discuss plans for our next lesson.’

Hyunjin rolls his eyes, wondering why Minho ever bothered lying to him, but decides to play into his act nevertheless - part of the act was, indeed, flinching when his horse almost kicks at him.

'Whatever. You know I’ll cover for you if you do anything utterly idiotic, anyways.’

Minho’s grin extends, and he raises both hands to pinch the younger’s cheeks ‘I do.’ To which Hyunjin immediately smacks his hands away, scoffing. It didn’t matter, Minho knew Hyunjin secretly loved it.

After the pair exchange nods, Minho quickly retreats where Jisung is miraculously still arguing with the same vendor. It seemed like he really wanted those peaches.

Attempting to be as relaxed as he possibly could, smiling to passersby and waving whenever someone stopped in their tracks at the mere sight of him. Minho did quite miss the “interactions with civilians” part of prince-hood, especially as undertaking Kingly duties meant that he rarely had such time.

Jisung is still blabbering when Minho finally gets to his destination, and he truly can’t help but stay shortly back and admire the sheer intensity of his argumentative bite. Jisung doesn’t even make a motion to stop talking when the vendor’s eyes land over Minho’s figure and he tries to shoo the shorter boy away.

‘And another thing! I don’t care how long you’ve been in business, because there is absolutely no way you can convince me that it’s justifiable to lift the prices of these peaches. Yeah, I'm aware of how much bigger they grow in the spring, and not to mention–,’

‘If the gentleman would let me, I could pay for any amount of peaches he’d like.’ Minho eventually cuts off, smiling back at the astonished vendor, who quickly dips his head in a courteous bow, voice wavery in response.

‘Of course, your Highness! Your benevolence must be incredibly grand if you’re willing to perform a service for a loud-mouthed street rat.’ The vendor praises, bagging a mound of peaches, knowing fully well that rejecting a princely offer would likely damage whatever was left of Jisung’s reputation.

Minho chooses to bite back the response he’d like to have given and instead, grins back at the man and replies ‘Yes, well, if it helps support our longtime shop-owners.’

While the man’s distracted, Minho quickly directs a wink at a, still, very perplexed Jisung. Minho must’ve shocked the boy a great amount, if he was able to get him to plunge under complete, dumbfounded silence.

‘Will that be enough, your Highness?’ The vendor questions, looking back up at Minho, making Jisung momentarily break out of his gape to _almost_ scoff at the fact that he wouldn’t get a say when it was _his_ peaches. Freaking class system.

Minho seems to understand this dismay and nudges Jisung’s side, nodding at the peaches as if to ask for confirmation. Jisung gulps under the stare of that vendor, and as he just begins to realize, a lot of other faces in the passing crowd. Eventually, he nods, Minho’s grin back to ease some of the accumulated tension sat atop his shoulders.

Jisung is almost sure that whenever minho is done paying, and they’ve both bid the vendor farewell, that they’d separate ways – because, there was no way a respected prince would’ve wanted to be seen walking around with someone like him, right?. Much to his shock, however – he was almost sure he’d be fresh out of those –, Minho promptly grabs his hand, rushing to pull him over to, a hopefully private, corner, away from curious eyes.

‘Hi.’ He finally utters, once he’s ensured that they’re completely alone, a brighter grin worn over his pretty face – not that Jisung thought about that a lot. It was an alright face, nothing extraordinary, nothing Jisung spent many nights thinking about in the low hours of the night.

‘Hey?’ Jisung isn’t sure how to sound, still flabbergasted from having seen the prince in broad daylight. Somehow, it felt completely different from receiving his accompaniment within the security of the woods.

‘Uh, Hyunjin and I were on a monthly town-roaming order,’ Minho explains, although he isn’t quite sure how to extend it ‘and, uh, I saw you.’

‘Yes, I see that, I see you as well,’ Jisung nods, still sure that he’s dreaming.

Minho chuckles, waving a dismissive hand ‘Nothing wrong with wanting to greet a friend.’

Before they can continue to dwell on it, Minho quickly cuts back in ‘Since we are…both here, would you like to discuss plans for our next training session?’

Why yes, Minho _does_ think he’s quite smooth.

‘Hm, maybe it’d be better to find somewhere more comfortable,’ Jisung looks around them, peering over their corner before sounding out an enthusiastic ‘Ah!’, upon spotting a familiar spot just a short journey away.

‘Alright, if you’re intent on not being seen, we’ll have to be quick.’ Jisung is the one to hold onto Minho’s hand this time, but now that they’re not in as much of a rush, it’s not as sloppy, and they’re able to completely entwine their fingers within the other’s. Jisung chooses to blame the cold (even though it’s an August morning) for the heat rising in his cheeks.

It _was_ just hand-holding, nothing exuberant. Still, Jisung wouldn’t deny how nice the small gesture was.

For the second time that day, the pair are sprinting down a path, Jisung leading, and with renowned speed, as if he’s on some sort of ‘Prince kidnapping escapade’ - the notion of which sounds more thrilling than he'd like to admit. When they stop, they land in front of a small entryway at the end of the pathway, its entrance obscured by a single, large, fuchsia curtain; an inexact depiction of what was more just a piece of cloth.

Jisung lifts the curtain and steps right in, his hand detaching from Minho’s as he follows suit. Once inside, Minho nearly trips over his own feet upon feeling himself almost bump into Jisung’s chest. Thankfully, Jisung wordlessly takes his hand in his again before smiling at the woman at the counter in front of them.

Minho takes a few seconds to marvel at the sheer magnitude of the room they’ve found themselves in. Diverting from the natural state of most shops in the city, this one is loud with color; the tones, and shades of which are spread around many of the room’s biggest motifs. The carpeted floor, the table cloths, the fringy, decorative cloth lining the top of the ceiling, the bowls of fused glass carrying candy on the counter, where a woman looks to be reading from a handy book. The interior is only odd considering the fact that it seems to be another market shop selling freshly grown goods. If Minho hadn’t caught a glimpse of their harvests, he’d have assumed he’d stepped right into a medium’s chamber.

Her brown skin is illumined by a profusion of sunny colors bouncing off of the multiple fractals making up the glass bowl set out in front of her. She’s adorned in standard wear; a dusky blue and white triangular shirtwaist, a big purple and yellow ribbon at its front, and a long, lined gored skirt that she has to mind not to trip over when she jumps off of her stool upon spotting Jisung by the entrance.

She seems surprised at first, gasping upon catching site of the familiar boy, her figure hurriedly leaving her post to stop right in front of the pair. Much to his dismay, she plants both hands on either of the boy’s cheeks, squishing them between her hands ‘Jisung, my little escape artist, it’s been too long!’

Jisung whines, gently moving his head away ‘Auntie, please,’

‘Oh, you’re just worried I’ll embarrass you in front of your frie– Prince?’ The woman looks startled, Minho’s charmed grin expanding when she finally catches sight of him.

‘Ah, it’s a long story, Auntie. Would it be alright with you, if we used your reading room for some time, we needed somewhere private to–,’ Jisung falters at that, looking to his side at Minho’s still figure, not entirely surprised to find that his grin had expanded.

‘No worries, dear, I understand.’ The woman directs a knowing stare their way after catching a quick glance at their interlinked hands, practically pushing them off to the supposed ‘reading room’, the entrance of which is also obscured by a velvety, star-dappled curtain; the state of which did justly appear as that of any ordinary curtain, despite the fact that it washes an inexplicable allure over Minho's head, as if its stars had somehow showered over him with his small steps inside.

The first thing that catches Minho’s eye is the pair of purple armchairs to his left, a silken blanket of sorts situated over either one, pillows with handcrafted stitching sat over either chair in a mound that’s clearly been sat on more than a few times. It looks to be a makeshift fort, just off of the ground for convenience.

The floor is adorned with the same soft carpeting, its painted wooden walls equipped with, what looks to be, handmade paintings, some of which are parchment papers lined up by one another in pieces that extend past more than one sheet of paper. There’s also a couple stuck to one wall, right by the armchairs, exhibiting messy Latin, scribbled over in some spots, circled over, underlined, in others.

There’s also a slew of scattered items sat over tabletops, some on the ground (a crystal ball, tins of powdery substances, vials of odd liquid) – either Minho’s previous affirmations are correct, or Jisung was related to a skilled chemist.

Although being accustomed to a princely lifestyle should make him sneer at the room’s overall flair, Minho does nothing but draw his eyes over everything within it in awe, mouth agape and all. It certainly didn’t shock him that he couldn’t have just been at any ordinary shop.

‘It’s quite messy, sorry. I mean, I personally like it, Auntie Gem never keeps her surroundings tidy, she says it doesn’t fit her ethic.’ Jisung recalls, smiling to himself.

‘Ah, so your aunt is a–,’ It’s at the tip of his tongue, Minho finds, but he decides not to use it and play into the shop’s cover ‘marketplace owner?’

‘She’s not actually my aunt,’ Jisung quickly explains, plopping onto the chair with more pillows, grabbing one to hug to his own chest ‘I mean, not by blood, but her family and mine go _way_ back.’

Minho hesitantly takes a seat on the adjacent armchair, shifting the positioning of its cloudy pillows ‘Blood may be thicker than water, but you’re not impervious from drowning in either.’

‘I always hated the first part of that saying,’ Jisung murmurs, laying his head against the chair’s soft cushioning, eyes drenched with the light of the lamp ablaze between them ‘glad to see you didn’t stop it there.’

‘To deduce that relationships can only be upheld when under the pretext of _blood_ , is to feed into ignorance.’ Minho’s eyes are, unparallel to that of the boy across from him, drenched with a multitude of colors. Jisung can see into each one, can interpret each one, can feel each one. Jisung has looked into colorless eyes before. Eyes that were pitch black, eyes that could’ve very well been replaced for pits, and wouldn’t have felt any different to him.

It’s rare that Jisung is able to establish such a comfortable silence within another person’s sole presence. Especially under the pretense that his head allows him the moment to pause, to focus all of his senses on _him_.

It’s only when the faint clicks of a piano’s keys breeze into his senses that he breaks out of the temporary trance he’d placed himself under, and he watches Minho questioningly search for its source.

‘Auntie’s niece, Willow, plays the piano somewhere in the back sometimes. It doesn’t look it, but this place is quite big, it extends to their home.’ Jisung explains, looking back at the entrance with a distant fondness. It truly had been too long since he’d visited.

Minho can’t help, then, to relish in the beautiful string of chords ringing against the walls, lingering in the air, diffusing about, peeking through the holes in the curtain, reaching the pair, eliciting a contentment that rivals the one they feel through simply being in one another’s presence.

Minho feels like he’s trapped in a storybook. The best kind. The kind that only ever spoke of bliss, of innocence, of purity, of love.

The melody that coerces him to stand up, look back down at Jisung’s questioning gaze, and hold a hand out for him to take ‘A dance, my Prince?’

‘P-prince? What–,’ Jisung almost chokes on his spit, but Minho’s light chuckles lock his mouth shut. He only falls even more immobile, when Minho carefully picks off his emerald-embellished crown, and places it atop Jisung’s head.

‘Let’s play pretend for a bit.’ He explains, arm still outstretched for him to take hold of. Jisung almost does, until he’s placed himself back into reality and realizes that he’d likely look horrendous trying to dance with an _actual_ prince.

‘It’s alright,’ Minho seems to understand, without having to hear Jisung say it ‘I’ll help guide you there.’

And so, with the slightest of reluctances, Jisung firmly takes hold of Minho’s hand for the second time that day and feels his heart fill with the melodies echoing off the walls surrounding them, its sheer grandeur overtaking every other feeling encapsulated within it. And when Minho rubs his thumb over his fingers, he absorbs some of it with him, and from then on, Jisung is sure they’ve transferred their devotions within their small encirclement.

Jisung’s mind numbs, he lets Minho lightly guide him, watches as he takes hold of his other hand and props it over one shoulder, watches as he delicately places a hand over his waist and mutters that if he wanted his hand to sit atop his shoulder as well, that it would be fine. Jisung feels comforted through their proximity, so he whispers that it’s alright, and they allow that unsung trust to prevail within their conjoined touch.

Minho leads him as best he can, making sure to whisper the steps by Jisung’s ear, subconsciously helping him move with the specific cadence playing behind them ‘…two steps here, and then shuffle to the side, and we repeat all of that again, alright?’

Jisung barely cares to adjust to the exact details, knowing that wherever Minho takes him, his heart could never shift from its existing joviality. His eyes are shut, and he still indulges in Minho’s small whispers of encouragement, his gentle reminders.

Minho was always so gentle, so tender, and Jisung can’t help but wonder how it was possible to feel like royalty within the arms of actual royalty.

Minho chuckles, when Jisung’s indifference makes their feet collide again, and just as the latter realizes that he’s slowly pulling away, Jisung’s panic makes him grip onto the material of the prince’s (probably very expensive) tailcoat, silently – but not subtly – begging for their closeness to remain,

Minho smiles at that. ‘Anything for my prince.’

Rather than presuming the barely practiced steps however, Minho opts to pull Jisung closer, slowly, and slowly, so as to give the other the chance to abate the advances if he’d liked to. He doesn’t, however, and Minho resorts, now, to swaying with Jisung, their steps small and non-articulate. Jisung’s breath lingers over Minho’s neck from where he’s buried it. Once again, he’s knee deep in whatever sort of stupor his mind takes him to when he’s with the boy ever-close to him at this precise moment.

‘Prince?’

‘Hm?’ Jisung hums after a short pause, almost forgetting to “play along”.

Minho isn’t sure what he’d wanted to ask, however. All of his seams seem to be burst through when Jisung’s eyes are on his again, impossibly closer than before. The light still resides within them, despite the fact that they’d been standing in the midst of the darkest spot in the room. He forgets, because Jisung’s breaths brush over his lips now, and it’s all he can do not to partake in a decision that could truly make or break whatever had been built up of their relationship.

Minho thinks, while he’s forgotten what to say, he might as well utter out what had irrevocably inundated itself over every other idea in his head.

‘I want to kiss you.’

Jisung’s miles ahead of where Minho’s hesitancies hold him back, and as soon as the words leave the elder’s mouth, he inhales a sharp intake of breath, and presses his lips over the soft, pink ones he’d been eyeing for weeks.

1, 2, 3, he counts in his head. He pulls away, his breathing is patchy, he’s worried, he’s scared.

1,2,3, again, and Minho’s lips are back on his, and this time, they match the rhythmic measures to their own movements, to and fro the same spot, each time treated and cared after like the first. And they move slowly, slowly, so as to indulge in the feeling properly. Even as they’ve stopped, their lips still hover over the other, Minho still feels Jisung’s breath over his, and his head harbors no desire to move away.

It’s when Jisung giggles, the crown on his head tipping over and pushing into Minho’s strands from where their foreheads are pressed together, that Minho opens his eyes. That Minho, in all of his colors, watches as his eyes squint at the sides, his nose scrunches up against his own, and his laugh’s beautiful color travels into either ear, settling within the crevices of his mind, where it intends to stay.

Minho felt like he’d been drawn into a storybook.

This time, he’d been saved by his own prince.

♚♔♚

‘Changbin?’ The blue light shines marvelously upon the merman’s unnaturally glimmering skin, his silky tail swishing and swaying behind him as a means of staying afloat while Changbin attempts to ward his eyes away from the majestical sight in fear that it’ll blind him. Still, he manages to hum questioningly and resist pulling away when Felix rings a hand over Changbin’s, running an index finger over the black leather adorning it.

‘Why are your gloves cut like that?’

Usually, when Changbin received this particular question, as he usually does, he wouldn’t take too kindly towards the mere notion of answering it. In other words, he’d scoff and look away.

‘I cut through them myself. My powers don’t permeate through leather.’

Perhaps it’s the way he’d stare up at him, a gaze rimmed with shimmer and a splice of genuineness that’d certainly been rare to come across within his line of work. Surely, it’d make sense for him to fall under a certain, captivating trance when under the stare of a seemingly fabled being.

A week, only a week had passed since, perhaps the least common of triads planned a break in and a potential secret-revealing heist. Of course, what became of it instead was nothing other than heightened puzzlement and further inquiry into their beliefs and the nature with which their world thrived if mermaids verifiably existed.

Oh, and Changbin had made a new friend.

Whether it’d been for the fact that he’d felt a sort of ease overtake him for the meager fact that a being of supernatural presence had been within short vicinity within him for years without his knowledge, or if Felix’s admittance over feeling terribly jaded all on his own had somehow touched past the metal barriers shielding his heart – both literally and figuratively.

Plus, he seems incredibly intrigued with Changbin’s answer despite the fact that he’d maintained his stoic demeanor and answered with a little too much intent on brevity and imprecision.

‘It feels so superbly splendid to finally be able to talk to someone, you know! Don’t tell my fishy friends I said that, i do love and appreciate them, but _Blub Blub_ and _Moony_ barely talk to me these days, they just munch on the kelp on my seabed and swim away – sorry, am I talking too much?’

‘You’re not.’ Somehow, Changbin can’t help but consciously allow a grin to etch over his face despite his years of training to sustain the perfectly apathetic, indifferent expression. In fact, this shift in his natural state seemed to have been enough to push a question out of him:

‘If you don’t mind me asking, how long have you been here? You couldn’t have been born here…right?’

Felix pondered over it for a bit, humming curiously while brushing a subconscious hand through the growing bloom of new petals woven within his soft streaks of hair. Again, it never seemed to tangle or appear to absorb the water it’s almost constantly in contact with. Likely attributed to the fact that he’d been one of the most beautiful, enthralling, imperial creatures to exist within any known astral or corporal world, but who truly knows.

‘Maybe 3 years? I came here when I was 16, and it should be…hm, hold on!’

Changbin grimaces then, wiping away at the salty residue from the water before him after it splashes up at him. It turns out Felix hadn’t been lying when he mention how heavily his tail weighed him down, as it had left quite the big wade upon swift downturn. For the time that he’s allocated to think over Felix’s answer, the preliminary beginnings of tragic familiarity sits at his chest.

Felix hadn’t been born here. This wasn’t his natural habitat, and he’d only been 16. But there had to have been a better reason for this, perhaps fear for what the public would think upon discovery of his existence, perhaps that he had no family left, perhaps that he’d been stranded or in grave danger that even he had yet to comprehend.

Still, a burning familiarity stretches over his mind’s horizons, one that had been hard to push away once it’s formed its first trace.

A simple thought, that’s all it had been, all it could be, and Changbin didn’t have any real reason to start speculating now. Not when it’d been within his job description to take over the room’s operations for as long as he’d still become the Prince’s official royal guard during his own ruling.

A day that had sounded all too foreign to these mere, youthful minds.

Unfortunately, Changbin is startled out of his wandering thoughts when Felix resurfaces, carrying with him an even larger mound of salty liquid that drenches him more properly.

‘Felix! You need to be more careful; I cant afford getting out of here like this when I’m not supposed to be here!’ Although announced in a flurry of frustration and worry, Changbin feels the tenacity of his words quickly fall under an impassable regret, perhaps for the paltry fact that Felix floats less closely to the ground where he’s situated and hangs his head slightly, in apology.

‘I’m sorry, Binnie.’ Even worse. Changbin is presented with a pout. ‘I think I can try lifting it off, if you’ll let me?’

Changbin’s instincts make him nearly question what the young merman could possibly be alluding to, until, of course, he rises out of his own stupidity to remember who he’d been conversing to. So, after a hesitant glance and a final decision to draw his eyes away from the ethereal figure before him, he sends him a curt nod.

Despite his eyes attempting to ward their peripheral away from the fish-human hybrid, Changbin still manages to catch sight of the boy’s face expanding into a crescent-shaped grin, flowers and glimmery skin glowing more brightly with his demeanor. Then, slowly, but surely, he feels the unmistakable airy lift of misty particles of water adorning him whole. And then they turn into droplets, and then small pools of water contained within one single spherical lift with Felix’s altruistic fingers. For the time it takes to catch half of a single breath, Changbin can marvel at the blue glow emitted through the strong forces upholding all of the water particles into one big pool of glowing liquid.

Then, he drops it, and redirects another grin at the boy. One that resonates differently, somehow, than any other grin he’d directed to him before.

‘I’m 18 years of age! I just made sure,’ Felix excitedly quips, happy to finally convey his findings ‘not to brag, but I’m friends with this all-knowing frog and I always ask him for the time, because there’s really no other way to tell the passage of time. My mother used to tell me to check for the position of the big, purple circle through the surface. I later learned that was the sun, and it’s yellow for some reason! I always imagined it’d be purple, although I suppose a blazing fire of yellow would look quite odd–,’

Changbin doesn’t hold back from presenting the boy with the sincerest of smiles now, a placidity overtaking his entire being while Felix rambles on and on, his head of blue and silver and glowing petals sat firmly within his arms which laid over the vibrant greenery underneath him.

It’d been a rare sight to find one’s self catching. The sight of pure, unfiltered beauty.


	9. Starwberry Lips

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: suggestive themes

A pair of hearts are casted by a glow that permeates through the almost unnaturally blue water of a river whose glimmering water gushes past nearby sizeable gems. Gems that had struck Minho with so much wonder that he’d almost forgotten he’d gotten too close to the water upon closer inspection of their reflective sheen.

Thankfully, he manages to move away and back within the safety of Jisung’s side before anything could be instilled from the violent rise of distrust within his chest. It resembles the rise of rushing water too closely for his liking.

If Jisung notices his wary gaze, he doesn’t mention it.

‘No, no I distinctly remember people talking about there only being _two_!’ Jisung justifies, voice somewhat increasing in pitch ‘I mean – don’t look at me like that – I believe you, obviously, they’re your cats, but it’s just odd that people always say two! The honorable Prince of Terragloria, caretaker of two cats–,’

‘See, it doesn’t even sound right. It’s always been three,’ Minho emphasizes, frankly cultivating more tire upon reaching this topic of discussion, yet again ‘Dori has peculiar fur because it curls up, plus he’s tinted a dark, greyish-brown, he’s as deserving of love as any other feline.’

‘I feel like there’s a story behind this,’ Jisung mutters. His eyes are drawn to the spear in his hands, the metal of which he’d been intently sharpening with a kind of precision Minho can only guess he’d gotten from watching his father carry out the task eons back. Still, small quirks make it obvious that he’s attempting to stay as focused on his words as he can when he’s simultaneously intent on getting his weaponry sharpened.

Minho also elects to ignore the tilt of sunshine that pools over the aforementioned gems, reflecting its sheen over Jisung’s exposed skin, from the trickle of sweat from his neck to his collarbones, to the misty residue clinging onto the muscular structure of his honey-oozed arms. Oh right, he’d been awaiting a response.

With a heavy sigh and a quick turn of his attention towards that of Fredrick, who’d been busy working on one of the nuts he’d grouped for him.

‘Dori is constantly underestimated out of the three. Even by palace trainers, they seem to neglect his abilities just because…,’ A pause. The pair can clearly hear warbling from nearby forest birds, the scratching of leaves to the side, the scraping of a rock against metal ‘he’s a little different.’

‘Different.’ Jisung repeats, grin stretching over his features ‘I have a feeling we’d get along well.’

‘You would.’ Minho’s chest can’t help but ache through the subtlety of a reminder that’d doomed him all too well, all too familiarly. Home, with the cats. Jisung, him, the cats. Why were the perfect scenarios never drawn up more easily for hearts that yearned to remain content? Why, when Jisung had rivaled the beauty of any corporal being Minho has ever known, and has surpassed thousands of facets on a rocky path that led straight to his damaged heart, why?

He would. He would get along marvelously with Dori. They’d both been special like that.

Still, even within the presence of this all-encompassing grief, Jisung’s miraculously uplifting presence lifts a melted dysphoria out of Minho’s chest. A marvel he hasn’t quite learned how he manages to do, so easily, just yet.

The river’s flow does not slow, its gushing waters accompanied by the downturn of the concealed sun whose shine had never reached the depths it had all those decades back. Jisung’s face is nothing but alight with the golden glow of this concealment, an approaching moonlight that more readily resembles the shine of suns, mere stretches of time away.

A sight Minho happily indulges himself in, consuming said light as if it’d been his sinistral syphoning unit’s main supplier for blissful exhilaration. An exhilaration that only balloons in size proceeding Jisung’s next question. If he hadn’t felt his heartbeat in his chest before, it’d certainly been thrusting harshly enough for him to hear it now, as if the river water had seeped into it through its healing cracks.

‘If you’re a prince, wouldn’t that make me your princess?’

It’s an innocent question, and a simple one, but Minho still feels his chest tightening through a silky grip that attempts to seal its minute fissures, feels it float over beds of water through a sort of counterproductive rehabilitation that somehow struck the core of its pumping settlement with placidity.

A placidity that immediately translates onto his face, enlightening the color within his eyes, as if they’d never stopped effervescing, never stopped living.

He leans into the other boy then, looping a hand around one of his arms and savoring in the delight of him shivering momentarily when the prince’s scruffy hair meets the bare skin. Another precarious sigh sounds from the aforementioned princess, through the feeling of his prince’s lips moving against his burning skin and its warm breath not particularly aiding the new discovery that he’d liked the feeling of his arms on his skin.

‘Would you like to be called that?’

Jisung’s grin falls nothing short of altruistically splendid, a capture of those gilt streamways and misty zephyr whose tonic felt like the touch of twinkling inundation. All its splendors, all its beauty, Jisung had taken them in so well Minho begins to wonder if his princess had come down from a secret heaven.

‘I’d love to, my prince.’

He almost forgets, just then, how limited their time together is becoming.

♚♔♚

When Changbin had first stepped into the merman’s vast room that day, all he sees is blue, a glimmery blue manipulated by calculative hands, that groups into star-shaped speckles of sea glass.

But now, although barely a beat passes, he sees red.

His own, consecutive beats feel erratic against his armor, even though he’d been swift enough to slip into the space behind one of the two grand pillars between the large opening that led to the vast body of water Felix inhabited. His drying lips feel even patchier through the incessant teething of their reddening skin. He’s placed such a tight grip over his bag that he could feel the sweat on his palms condense over the leathery material. Still, he had to be sure his food wouldn’t have been sniffed out by the pair of familiar, greedy guards stood threateningly over Felix’s dull figure in the water.

It hadn’t been long until Changbin finally comes to the certain realization of who the two guards would’ve been, even as he didn’t get a close glimpse into their faces. ‘Blizz’ and ‘Flamesman’, whose codenames left little to the imagination; sometimes, Changbin wishes the palace would employ female guards like in Terragloria, because he was 100% sure they would be more tolerable and come up with better names for themselves.

Personally, Changbin was dubbed ‘Spear’, by his father, for whatever reason.

‘Do you really think boss man’s going to follow through with what we discussed yesterday?’ Blizz asks his steely partner, plucking a long glass jar from one of his side pouches, where it usually sat, and twisting the top open.

‘Hm, maybe. Spear is competent, but he’s extremely secretive and peculiar, to say the very least.’ Flames responded, causing Changbin to furrow his eyebrows at the mention of his name. Was his father going to assign him a new line of duty?

‘Reduces our workload, doesn’t it? Seems like a win-win situation to me. If he follows through, he’ll probably just gain more respect and prestige.’

‘But do you think that’s fair? He’s only 20 years old and has higher ranking than some of us, who have been out on the field for as long as he’s been alive. Hey, Blue, speed it up!’ He’d directed the last part to Felix, who visibly shrinks under the man’s sharp gaze and intimidating weaponry. When it was on Changbin, it had felt admirable, heroic. On them, it’d only ever instilled a darkening fear.

The red cloaking Changbin’s vision only increases in tenacity, a burning anguish settling within his chest, dulling its beating for focus on the fact that he’d simply have to hold himself back from landing a severely damaging punch over the guards and their, likely, snug expressions.

Somehow, it pained him so much more to receive only the view of Felix’s own downturned features and forced power generation. It reminded him too much of himself as a child.

Blizz had already formulated a very weak, anger-inducing image within Changbin’s mind, but this had only made it eons worse. First, he insults his rightfully earned standing. The one that he fought so hard to get to, the one that he worked his entire being for, just to get some respect from the man who was never actually, really, his father. Then, he intimidates the small, helpless merman who is clearly acting against his own will in an environment that was never his _real home_.

Changbin knew, well enough, what it was like to be driven away from home, only to be placed in a new, unfamiliar environment guarded by specified principles.

Alas, he has to hold his deep-seeded ramblings somewhere at the tip of his scorching tongue, the task of which becomes even harder when he catches sight of their retreating figures. Just barely, he’s also able to catch a swift, shaky glimpse of the jar Blizz throws back into the large pouch attached to his belt. It was, as expected, filled with a sparkly, blue liquid.

Changbin guessed Felix had just seeped his strange magic into the water and lifted it into the glass. Still, it only works his brain an extraneous amount for wonder over what they could possibly use it for, and why they needed the water in too, seeing as Changbin had seen Felix use them plenty of times without the need for water as a medium.

He seemed to use it a lot subconsciously, forming wisps and shapes on the ground, the water, and sometimes Changbin’s hands. Solely because he’s an observant person, Changbin catches onto Felix’s hyper-fixation with his hands quite quickly. They barely go one visit without his relentless need to wring his fingers over and around his hands.

Heaving out one final sigh, and watching it escape into the cold air in one final, icy wisp, Changbin attempts to tip-toe back to where Felix had been situated after hearing the distant thud of metal drawing shut. Upon the very first shred of a glance, he feels his heart lurch abruptly. The boy was still out of the water, his head in his hands, strands of his delicate, blue hair strung up in different directions and dulled down. The flowers on his head shone less brightly. Changbin noted, that there were noticeably fewer, some amidst falling and breaking off completely.

Felix’s hand brushed the Lotus Modus that titled down at his angle, and Changbin watched as the color switched to blue, red, and then back to blue.

‘Felix,’ Changbin approaches the merman as quietly as is possible when he’d been adorned in thick layers, careful not to assert himself into view too intimidatingly. Felix lifted his face up, nearly flinching on instincts alone before realizing that it had only been Changbin, and for a moment, the latter swears he’d caught sight of the flower shifting to pink before drowning itself of all color as he speedily moves away and rubs at his eyes with the pads of his fingers.

‘Felix, I…I saw what happened. I’m sorry, about them.’

‘Why, Changbin? Why can’t the other guards be like you?’ Felix whimpered, sniffling amidst the rapidly drying tears that had painted his face with streaks of grief ‘I hoped I gave enough for them last time to keep them away, but they keep coming for more.’

‘Have they been doing this for all the 3 years you’ve been here?’ Changbin had purposely ignored the initial question, not having the heart to either lie or relay a hard-hitting truth. Instead he’d just awkwardly patted at his head.

‘No, I don’t think so. It’s a blur, but when I first got here, they treated me with hospitality. They said that they found me stranded by the shore, barely breathing, so they took me in. For months, I waited for any sign for my family, hoping that they’d come looking for me. They never did. Then, this became my permanent home, and they started asking for samples of my magic in exchange for staying here.’

‘That’s terrible, Felix. It’s not like you asked for this.’ The more he learned, Changbin thought, the less respect he had for the people that claimed to be his family.

Felix just shrugs dismissively, some color returning to his skin, intents on diverting from the topic of discussion catching Changbin off-guard; ironically enough, seeing as he’d been a guard.

‘Hey, can you do that again? The head patting?’

‘Hm? You mean,’ Changbin awkwardly lays his hand back over Felix’s head, ruffling it animatedly a few more times, wary of accidentally conveying the adverse effects of what a comforting movement would’ve been.

Still, somehow, Felix smiles, his lips extending to form the familiar grin Changbin had gotten accustomed to catching the all-too-close sight of. Then, before Changbin could even breathe out the lump in his throat, Felix heaves himself further up to smooth his head of hair over Changbin’s crossed over legs, peering his eyes up into his own, and quietly requesting that he keep playing with his gradually bluing hair.

It’d been so odd, like Changbin’s mere presence restored the vibrancy of his blues, enlightening their previously blunting textures.

‘My older sister used to play with my hair and braid small segments into it, when it was longer. Back then, she’d find the most creative ways to incorporate shells and sea flowers into it.’ Felix explained, demeanor joyous, eyes fluttered close, skin glimmering, flowers budding ‘I miss her. I miss them.’

Changbin’s eyes softened, and he found himself almost snap back into reality before he allowed himself the opportunity to fall under the bite of a soft demeanor. Instead, attempts to convey comfort the only way he knows how: relatability.

‘I had an older sister too.’

‘Really?’ Felix’s eyes spring open, and Changbin feels his head shifting before he looks up at him through a starstruck gaze equipped with a gasp of delight ‘Wow, how come I’ve never heard of her?’

‘She died.’ Changbin’s voice wanders, but it doesn’t waver. He marvels over how long it could’ve been since he allowed his mind to insert the familiar picture of his older sister into itself, amongst the wreckage that lived there.

‘Oh.’ Felix’s grin disappears. ‘I’m so sorry for asking.’

‘No, it’s alright, it’s been a long time. Anyways, I just said it because I hoped it would comfort you.’

‘Hm. But I’m sure my family is alive. They just, couldn’t find me.’ Changbin elects to ignore that Felix’s tone does not sound as hopeful as his words.

Thankfully, before anymore tension can be instigated, Changbin’s mind clicks back into focus. The reason he’d come to visit in the first place. Felix had explained to him a few days ago, that he strictly either ate the sea vegetables in his small habitat, or whatever the guards happened to offer to him – what was usually basic fish food, sometimes something a bit more delectable; the guards sometimes treated him with a purposeful edge when it came to food, simply because while he could, Felix would never be able to eat his fish friends in the water. He’d drone on and on about how jealous he was of human food, or about how he missed some of the things he used to enjoy with his family at sea.

So, Changbin had elected to take some time to collect several food items from the kitchens – with Chan’s help – in order to curate the perfect array of first-time tries; some of which he’d remembered him make small mentions of, and some of which he hoped he would like based off of Felix’s vivid descriptions derived from stories.

It’d been hard to stomach down a grin when Felix had learned that apples were not, in fact, blue and fell under a deep astonishment.

Swimming up out of his drowning thoughts, Changbin shakes his head and turns his attention back to the slowly-rippling water before electing to hesitantly mutter his next words by Felix’s ear; surely, the notion had been peculiar, and he’s not too sure why he becomes incredibly reluctant to move back away when Felix’s half lidded eyes brighten back up into a wide-eyed gape. Their faces are mere inches away, and although facing different directions had felt quite odd, Changbin’s voice still comes off incredibly shaky when he whispers:

‘I have a surprise for you.’

‘Really?’ Felix isn’t entirely sure why they’re whispering, but just in case he’s obligated to, he maintains Changbin’s volume.

Slowly, so as to not disrupt the delicate figure pressed over his chest – yes, Felix had decided to snuggle into his figure more surely, now that he’d learned of its endless comfort –, Changbin tilts to one side in order to quickly swipe at the bulky bag he’d brought with him.

Felix watches, quietly, as Changbin unzips the bag and takes out a sizable, thick rag, unraveling it to reveal the various food items he’d picked up from the kitchens and the guards’ breakfast table when no one was looking ‘I got you human food.’

Felix gasps, accidentally heaving his tail up out of excitement, and moving closer to inspect the food before him. Changbin, once again, as he always does, elects to ignore the sudden loss of a soothing warmth when Felix sits up and moves off of his lap. It’d included an assortment of different items he thought he might’ve known based on having heard descriptions of them, things he’d tried before, and things he likely had no idea of at all.

‘You got me human food?’ Amidst an astonishment, the only words Felix can find are the ones Changbin had just used ‘That’s so nice of you, I can’t believe you’d do something like this for me!’

‘Yeah, it’s whatever.’ Changbin nonchalantly responds, behaving as if the mere fact that Felix looked so delighted and excited at the mere thought of finally getting something delectable to eat, did not send his heart plummeting into the depths of the water around them.

‘What’s this?!’ Felix picks up a strawberry. ‘It’s so pretty, and bright, and red!’

‘It’s a strawberry.’

‘A STRAWBERRY!’ Felix whoops in sweet joviality, nearly scaring Changbin into the water himself. After allowing himself a few seconds of inspection, Felix almost shoves the entire fruit down his throat to scoff it down, but then his eyes land back over Changbin’s.

‘What?’

Felix doesn’t say anything at first. Instead, he readjusts the positioning of his tail so it’s back to staying afloat through delicate, brisk motions. Then, he situates his head back over his lap, practically preening and dare Changbin admit it, audibly purring.

‘Could you please feed it to me?’

Changbin almost denies it immediately. He swears, he feels a bead of sweat trail past his forehead, and perhaps a slight stagger overtaking his psyche. But, then again, Felix’s eyes are so wide, so pure, so curious, so bright. He couldn’t say no.

So, he doesn’t, and while he slowly drops the strawberry into Felix’s mouth, he feels the twisting and the pooling fervor in his chest intensify, tenfold, at the mere brush of his fingers over the boy’s soft, pillowy lips. He’s gentle, surprisingly enough, perhaps to draw in as much of its flavor, as if to memorize how it’d taste like, even though Changbin had brought loads with him. As if to elongate the feeling of the brush of the guard’s fingers over his dolly lips.

Momentarily, he stills, but allocates Changbin with time to feed him the rest of the strawberry before the boy stops at its calyx. When he finally lifts it out of view, he has to gulp down another lump in his throat at the mere sight of the boy’s rouge-tinted lips, and then as if to make matters extraneously worse, he licks the juice off, electing to take his time.

Felix’s eyes never leave Changbin’s. He doesn’t think he’s even blinked in the last 3 minutes.

‘What would you like to try next?’

‘You.’


	10. Bubbles and Flash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw // slightly mature, suggestive content

On Minho’s 6th birthday, the little prince had been gifted two, freshwater, gilt fish, the introduction through which a ready friendship had been sure to be established. It’d even taken thorough diligence and hours of his day devoted to the pair for him to finally decide on a pair of fitting names. One had been dubbed ‘Bubbles’, as it had a tendency to play around with the spheres of trapped air that that floated up to the surface of the water and popped with his swiveling. The other, flash, for the simple fact that he’d relished in swishing through the water in speedy treks. He’d leave behind a trail of bubbles, which in turn, would attract his brother’s attention, a meaningful encapsulation of the young princes that often trailed around the palace in whimsical tandem.

Flash, only slightly, differed from Bubbles in his strange, predominantly white patterning. He’d been described to Minho as ‘quite unnatural’ in that he didn’t look like any of the other goldfish, vibrancy paling in comparison to the other, bright oranges. To Minho, said idiosyncrasies had made the friend all the more magnificent to watch zoom past his line of vision in swift surges.

In more ways than one, they’d reminded him of two particular, little princes. A pair that’d once been unrivaled in wonder, in fascination of the unknown and the seemingly impossible. Two little, golden princes that swim in patterned cavorts, that sat in a small castle during times designated for repose, that chased one another in circles.

When Minho was 7, he’d woken up to a dire devastation. He vividly recalls the surge of panic that overtook him, whenever he’d caught sight of the pair gasping for air, hanging helplessly at the surface of the water. He remembers the benightment of confliction, of inadvertency.

Before it could’ve properly been taken care of, before his mother’s gentle whispers could come into fruition, when their words had proved to be false, the vast length of the palace grounds could hear the young prince’s anguished shrieks and heart-shattering cries. Minho remembers distinctly, the feeling of water, gushing through his lungs, permeating past intended barriers. He remembered seeing darkness even though his eyes were wide open. He remembered feeling the pain that his fish must’ve been enduring for days before their little hearts gave out. He felt their pain, immensely and wholly and irreversibly.

That experience had left physical and emotional scars on Minho’s body and mind that would likely never be healed.

Minho was 20 now. Even now, he still remembered the day as if it had just occurred, even though 12 years had went, had gone.

Minho remembers, surely, immensely, wholly, and irreversibly, but only when through sight of two, fragmented fish swimming through rivulets and fanciful whirlpools within wide eyes do they serve to leave his chest aching with a sort of brevity of heart that one seeks out for. A spark unmatched.

Golden fish smeared over telling eyes. A beauty unmatched.

Because Han Jisung had been, for too long, doubting the mere existence of such beauty. For too long, wallowing within dark torrents and blurred lines that obscured his desire for more than just enough. Han Jisung had deserved more than just enough, and it ached to see the boy pass sincere apologies for the state of his home, or the creaky nature of his doors, or the weary state of his only bed.

‘It’s kind of hard to really find comfort in this once you’ve felt the beds up in the palace, because it really does feel like nothing but a slab of rock, now, and I’m just saying this as a fair warning because I know you’ll likely expect – ok, why am I saying this, you’ve already sat down, but oh God, how could I invite a prince back into a stupid, small cabin that–,’

‘Jisung.’ Surprisingly, Minho seems to be in so such rush to halt the boy’s incessant crave to amalgamate justifications through a slurry of worry-laced confessions, but still, he thinks it would do the younger boy good to lay a gentle grasp over where his heart had been thudding so quickly, his heightened hearing could clearly sense it.

Jisung doesn’t hum, as he usually would, but Minho finds it in him to draw energy from the very cores of his euphoric wonder, in hopes that it’ll be enough to convey calm within their coalesced refuge, again.

‘Calm down, love. Calm, we can be calm, yes?’ A hesitant nod. Minho sees Jisung’s eyebrows knot into one another in bleak curiosity, as if he’s amidst pondering over something increasingly critical.

‘We can be calm.’

‘I’m sure your bed will be just fine for the both of us, yes?’

This time, Jisung stays quiet, despite the fact that his lips stretch out and his eyes dilate.

‘Jisung?’

‘Let’s test it out.’

‘Sorry?’

Given the sheer fact that he’s entirely unsure of which direction either of them are willing to journey towards, Jisung allows the few seconds of hesitancy to cloud around them through the touch of his forehead against his, trailing brown hair that’d stuck to his forehead in its own messy patches, flush against Minho’s commonly brushed, tamed bangs. Jisung isn’t adorning a crown anymore, but somehow, he still manages to find it within him to channel its prowess and translate it through the initially messy coalescing of two pairs of eager lips.

Minho can’t ultimately admit that he hadn’t been infatuated with the idea of winding up within the warmest of Jisung’s embraces, the craving of which coincides marvelously with the boy’s incessant, aggravating habit of biting into the skin of his lips or running his tongue over it. Or perhaps, most hard-hitting, is when the boy offers to fetch berries from a nearby stream with the knowledge that Minho wouldn’t feel comfortable stretching past any body of water himself. Perhaps, when amongst a fluster over such generosity, Minho has to endure the brief sight of the boy stripping himself of the tattered layers that usually sat over the same, sleeveless, brown shirt, the nature of which had been proven useless when bits of it ripped far enough for Minho to – practically – catch glimpses into supple skin on every facet of his torso. Or perhaps it’d been after he winds up retrieving it. Perhaps it’d been when he rose up, face alight with glee, a push of an uncovered hand over his overgrown hair leaving droplets of water over them that trail past different strands after initially grouping into small beads that wind up trailing past his bare arms.

Perhaps that’d been why Minho can’t help but fall seamlessly limp under Jisung’s consistent hold. Why Jisung can’t help but to feed into a relentless whine within the simplest of actions; the grip over his tattered overwear, the trailing of fingers down one exposed shoulder, the lamentation at the tip of his tongue that quickly winds up consumed by Jisung’s unremitting bite – not literally, although neither can be too sure if that much will remain true for very long.

Perhaps it is this acceptance of either figure’s equally feverous hunger that makes each instance of warm lips molding over hesitant ones so satisfyingly regal. A moth and a flame, Jisung can’t help but fall under a satisfying lethargy through the mere taste of Minho’s defining colors. They’d been hoarded within his eyes, that much had always been obvious. Still, he realizes, they’re drawn within his touches, within his sweet reserve, within his everything, and Jisung had been readily drawing them in as fuel.

Jisung thinks, there’s no harm, no harm at all, not when Minho had been murmuring short, reaffirming whispers, not when his useless overwear is drifted back to the ground and he’s able to finally strip the once, innocent prince of his expensive silks. It’d felt almost symbolic.

Silk against readily warming skin, Jisung doesn’t think there’s a feeling better than this, the fact of which is confirmed to be a shared notion when, upon sliding an arm past the material of that wretchedly useless shirt, the boy’s whispered whimpers are readily caught back into Jisung’s unrivaled yearning.

A craving whose dexterity is only tested further when Jisung catches all senses of the boy’s incessant shifting from underneath him, when he relishes in how his needy nature makes him preen, makes him stretch back into the diaphanous sheets underneath them. He almost forgets to award the boy’s exuberant response through sheer allure.

‘I hope the bed’s still fine by you from here, Kitten.’


End file.
